Angel on your shoulder
by subseeker
Summary: Lately Randy isn't the nicest guy around and bit by bit he drives everyone away. When something happens that leaves Randy on the brink of death, what could make him hold onto life. Or who? Sorry, I suck at summaries ;-) This is slash. Centon and some John Cena/CM Punk.
1. Chapter 1

Agitated voices greeted him the second he opened the door and from the sounds of it they belonged to Big Show and…

"… leave me the fuck alone, Orton!"

He rounded the corner and saw the two men, almost nose to nose. Well, Paul was towering over Randy and the man was really pissed off… and it took a lot to make him angry. Randy had his arms crossed over his chest and showed the same arrogant expression he wore so often lately. Some of their co-workers watched them curious, from a safe distance of course, but no one made a move to separate them.

John sighed. So he would do it, separate them, calm them down, although he knew better. Like always. He shouldn't interfere, especially not when Randy Orton was involved. They've had times when they had been… well, friends would have been said too much, but they had talked casually, even joked around a bit and went for a beer after work.

Then, suddenly, out of the blue Randy became an asshole. He started to bitch and snap at everyone without a reason, to piss off everyone on his way and the few times John tried to find out what was wrong, Randy had pushed him away. At first with words and the last time John got out of his attempt of being a 'friend' with a shiner.

But Paul was out of Randy's league and even though John had enough of Randy's asshole attitudes, he wouldn't want to see him folded to a package by Paul. So he did how he always did – being the good boy – he brought up a good-natured expression to his face and stepped between those two and pushed them apart with gentle pressure.

"Hey guys, no need to yell at each other," he tried to calm them down and while Paul reacted and stepped back a bit, Randy slapped John's hand away.

"Whoa, hold your horses, Orton!"

Appeasing John held his hands up.

"Don't touch me, Cena!" Randy snapped and shoved John against Paul, before he left the room.

For a few seconds everyone in the room watched Randy's angry retreat, accompanied with a few nervous coughs and murmuring.

"Uhm… what exactly was that?" John wondered aloud, still staring in the direction the younger man had left.

"I don't know," Paul huffed behind him. "I accidently bumped into him and suddenly he flipped out. Completely."

A big hand patted John's shoulder.

"Good thing you came along. I guess a few more seconds and I would have pushed his arrogant face through the wall."

John looked up to the big man and frowned.

"Yeah, I guessed something like that," he replied slowly. "Man, I don't know what's wrong with him lately…"

The big man shrugged his shoulders and John noticed gladly that Paul was back at being the gentle giant everyone knew.

"The kid was never easy to get along with," Paul stated. "But if he keeps up those manners Vince will kick him out sooner or later. The whole roster avoids him by now."

"Yeah, obviously…" John whispered and wondered once again what was going on with Randy.

xxx

Hours later John entered a small bar, his eyes scanning the room for his friends. He found them in a corner, already having a drink and chatting, and he made his way over to them. Then his eyes found someone else, sitting at the bar. Alone. It was Randy and for once there wasn't his all day asshole mask plastered to his face but a lonely and somehow sad expression. John frowned but continued his way to his co-workers where he sat down, waving for the waitress.

Minutes went by and he tried his best to jump into the ongoing conversation… without success. His eyes and mind drifted back to the lonely man at the bar. The younger man's brows were furrowed, not in anger like hours before… it was worry. What John saw there simply didn't fit the way Randy acted lately but it _did_ fit very _well_ to what John assumed, namely that something had happened to the younger man, whatever it was.

He felt a soft bump against his shoulder and turned his head to his neighbor.

"Where are you, bro?" Kofi smiled at him and arched an eyebrow.

"What?" John asked absentmindedly, still lost in his thoughts.

"I asked where you are. I see you sitting beside me, but you are somewhere else up here." Kofi pointed at his head.

"Oh. I just…" John's eyes flicked back to Randy. "Doesn't matter."

"Yeah, sure. Man, stop being the nice guy. He's not gonna thank you for it, you know that."

"I know, I know," John groaned, rubbing his hands through his face. "But I can't just let him sit like that over there."

With that he got up from his chair.

"John, don't. He's gonna give you the next shiner."

He patted Kofi's arm and shrugged his shoulders.

"Color up your life," he grinned and made his way over to Randy.

The younger man seemed so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice John at first. Only when he sat down on the bar stool beside him, Randy's head snapped in his direction and in a blink sadness, loneliness and worry vanished from his face. His brows furrowed even more. The anger was back.

"Fuck off, Cena."

"Mmh, no."

"What the hell is it don't you understand? Leave me the fuck alone!"

John pursed his lips. "No."

Randy growled something that was swallowed by the loud voices surrounding them and slipped from his bar stool to obviously leave, but John grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Randy, don't. Please," he said just loud enough for the younger man to hear. "_Please_. Let's talk, okay?"

For a second it looked like Randy really considered to stay and finally talk to him, but then he jerked his arm out of Johns grip and stretched up to his full height, balling his hands to fists.

"I said don't touch me, Cena! What is your fucking problem?! Why do you have to stick your nose into everything?" he spit, voice dripping with venom. "You want to get along with everyone but I don't want that, okay? You run around smiling, always nice and helpful. It's disgusting how you try to be everyone's darling. But that's the problem, isn't it? You need that, you need all the attention 'cause if you don't have that it's nothing left except your pitiable self, right? You're so despicable, Cena."

John stared at him for a few heartbeats and tried to swallow what he'd just heard and he felt something break deep inside. Despite his better knowledge he'd come over here and this had been one offending speech too much… The words should have made him mad, but instead it only hurt to hear them from the younger man.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, Randy, I just don't understand it. But I guess now I know why Sam left you," John replied calmly and the side blow hit home, he saw it in the cold grey eyes. "You are the most selfish, ignorant and foolish person I ever met. You know what? No one would miss you if you'd get lost and never come back. I'm fed up to the back teeth. The next time you mess with me I'm gonna make you regret it. Go to hell, Orton."

Randy's angry mask wavered a little, probably because he would have never expected a reaction and words like that from John, probably because of the way John had said it – not angry, no… calm, resigned. Not John Cena-like.

"Oh, wow. A speechless Randy Orton," the older man laughed mirthlessly. "No smartass response?"

Randy gritted his teeth. His jaw muscles twitched. He actually wanted to come up with a response but somehow he couldn't bring even one word over his lips. Instead he simply turned away from John and left the bar.

The very second the door fell shut behind Randy, John groaned and closed his eyes. He should have been mad or offended, but instead he felt guilty, sorry. He hadn't intended to say these things to Randy. Not like they weren't the truth, but he didn't really mean them the way he said it.

Knowing that he would again regret it, he jogged after the man. But he couldn't let him go like that.

Randy had already reached his car and was climbing onto the driver seat when he caught up with him. He grabbed the car door before the younger man could close it.

"Randy, please wait."

"What?!" Randy snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"As if I care, Cena!"

With that he yanked the car door out of John's hand, started the car and left the parking lot.

"Fuck!" John shouted into the night and kicked against a street light.

While he watched the car drive down the road towards a road junction, he heard how the pub door opened, how Kofi called his name. His eyes followed the car reach the junction and a bad feeling grew in his chest, a feeling that he should have made him stay, somehow, _somehow._

He watched the car cross the junction. And he watched as a big truck came from out of nowhere and collided with Randy's car, as the younger man's car overturned three times before it came to a stop on its roof. A moment later flames flared up.

The world stopped turning and time stood still, frozen in pure horror. Then reality came rushing back in a mighty clash and John _ran_.

The junction wasn't far away but the few seconds felt like an eternity to him. His eyes were locked with the wreck that had been Randy's car, praying that the younger man would crawl out of it any second but he didn't. _He didn'_t. John cried his name but there was no movement in the wreck.

He pushed watching people aside and finally reached the wreck.

There was blood on the concrete, broken car glass… the driver's side was a distorted mess. And then he saw a tattooed, lifeless arm.

"Randy," he breathed. "No. No, no-no-no…"

Lying down beside the window, he ignored the voices behind him that told him to go away from the burning car.

Randy hadn't been wearing the safety belt and John found him lying face down on the inner side of the roof. There was blood everywhere. Too much blood. He reached out for the younger man's hand and called his name but there was no reaction.

_Don't you dare…!_

John could hear the growing flames, the sound of crawling fire. He had to get him out of the wreck and so he stretched forward, burying his fingers in bloodstained clothes and pulled the lifeless body out of the car inch by inch, whispering the younger man's name over and over again like a prayer.

Agonizing moments went by… And then finally Randy was free and John dragged him away from the wreck, away from the fire to a safe place where he kneeled down beside Randy, trying to find a pulse with trembling fingers.

"Thank you," he whispered when he found a weak pulse.

Blood was oozing out of uncountable cuts and a big laceration on Randy's forehead. He wasn't conscious and slowly it dawned on John that the younger man wasn't _breathing_.

"You're not going to die on me, Orton!" John yelled at him. "Don't you dare die on me!"

He leaned forward and breathed for him and he could taste the metallic tang of warm blood and he breathed, breathed… until Randy gasped and breathed on his own again.

"Randy, can you hear me? Open your eyes…"

Grey eyes fluttered open, making John sigh heavily in relieve. Randy's gaze was dazed and unfocused but he was conscious.

"That's it, Randy. Look at me," he whispered, intertwining their fingers and Randy's dazed eyes followed his voice ever so slowly. "We're going to get you through this. Don't even think about doing something stupid like dying, okay? Promise me. Come on, squeeze my hand."

After a moment John felt his hand squeezed weakly.

"Okay, that's good," he urged but the grey eyes drifted close again. "No, come on, just stay awake and keep looking at me. Randy!"

He leaned a little closer again and his free hand settled on a bloody cheek. Randy's eyes opened at the contact.

"Stay with me… stay with me…"

John faintly registered sirens but all he could think of, he could do was staying focused on Randy, to keep the contact, keep him awake, keep him _alive_. Suddenly there were voices that told him to let go so Randy could be taken to a hospital, felt Randy's fingers slip from his when their hands were separated.

He didn't want to let go, couldn't because he had to make sure the younger man would survive and he tried to fight against being dragged away. Then he heard well-known voices talking to him. Kofi? Punk? They were telling him that everything would be alright and that he needed to let the paramedics do their work. And he let go.

John eyes stayed locked on the younger man until the paramedics closed the door of the emergency ambulance and the car took off.

"John?"

It was Punks voice but he couldn't answer. He felt dizzy and his whole body began to tremble against this will. The next second his knees gave out. He could still taste blood on his lips, _Randy's_ blood and he began to retch.

He heard his friends worried voice calling for a paramedic and he wanted to tell them that he didn't need help, that he wanted to go after the emergency ambulance… But then everything went black…


	2. Chapter 2

So, back again, with the next chapter in tow :-)  
Thanks for all the feedback and even if this chap is different from the first one, I hope you enjoy it, too!

Have fun!  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

x

A frustrated growl passed his lips. Why couldn't this man leave him alone? His eyes found the rearview mirror, showing him John who was still standing there, staring after him. And Randy could imagine the expression on John's face – a mixture of frustration, guilt and sadness. He'd _heard_ the man's voice and knew that John simply couldn't stop being the always helpful and nice guy he was and _that was so fucking annoying_ because it made himself feel bad for acting towards John like he did. But he couldn't stop… he had no choice.

And it was always the same. In the end he started to tell himself that John had no right to ask questions or mess with his life and above all that he wasn't the nice guy he pretended to be… In the end he managed to talk himself into hating John and all the other people. In the end it would be like it's always been and he would be alone, but it was okay because he needed no one. In the end it didn't matter…

And at a moment's notice his world exploded into screaming pain before black darkness pulled him in. There was no time, only… nothing.

But then a faint voice called him and the pain returned, paralyzing, excruciating. He knew that voice that was calling him over and over again, but he couldn't answer, couldn't breathe. Seconds… minutes… hours...? Darkness was reaching for him to pull him back into that peaceful nothing… and he didn't fight it… but suddenly air filled his lungs and he could breathe again…

There were soothing touches that eased the pain… and that voice… he wanted to follow that voice… wanted to hold onto it when the touches vanished…

And then he drifted in and out of consciousness and glaring white hot pain. It all became too much, too much and he wanted it to stop… and then the darkness was back and he fell…

xxx

A soft knock on the door disturbed the quietness of the room and trailed off unheard and the opening door revealed someone Randy for sure wouldn't have wanted to see. John Cena.

Hesitantly John entered the room. Behind him the door clicked shut and cut off the busy sounds coming from outside the room. It was crushing to see all those tubes and wires and machines… and the younger man in that bed between, motionless.

With slow steps he walked up to the bed, his eyes wandering over the man lying there, stopping at the pale face. For a few minutes he just stood there, stock-still.

He could almost hear the younger man's sharp voice asking him what the hell he was doing here, if it was fun to stand there and watch him. If John was happy that he finally got rid of him. John gritted his teeth. God knew how much he would like to hear those words in reality because it would mean that Randy was okay.

The older man shook his head and stepped closer, took off his baseball cap and sat down on the chair beside the bed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry…," John whispered. "I'm so damn sorry."

His voice was rough, heavily laced with sincere regret and worry was written all over his face, shone in his eyes, unseen and unheard by the unconscious man in the bed. But John wished, prayed that it would reach Randy somehow.

He had no idea what to say. Groaning, he tilted his head back closed his eyes. The past days hadn't been the best in his life… so to speak. Every time he tried to find some sleep, he was back at that night, back at the car. Back at Randy's side. And everything he'd felt those minutes flared up again. He could still taste the blood…

John couldn't remember what had happened after the paramedics had taken Randy away. When he woke up the next day he found himself in a hospital and Punk at his bed.

"They wanted to give you something to calm down but you collapsed," his friend explained, worry etched to his face.

His eyes however told John that there were questions. Questions like: why did you risk your life for someone who gives a _shit_ about you? Or: You _know_ that you should stay away from that man? Or: I saw you at his side and _why_ do I have the feeling that you care much, _much_ more about him than you admit?

Punk didn't ask him all these questions and John was deeply grateful. He couldn't have answered them. At least not yet. But they were still there and sooner or later he had to face them.

Hesitantly John allowed his hand to settle close beside Randy's. The normally tanned skin looked pale, still a few shades darker compared to his own.

Maybe Punk was right and he should stay away from Randy. Let's take a realistic view of the facts, Randy actually hated him. But talking of realistic views of the facts, John cared a lot about Randy. Much, _much_ more than he would admit to anyone. He bit back a bitter laugh. It was hard enough to admit it to _himself_.

Faintly he registered the steady sound of the heart monitor and oddly enough it was calming to hear it. It meant that despite all that had happened Randy was still there. And John tried his best to concentrate on the electronic echoes of Randy's heartbeat… and failed. His thoughts simply wouldn't come to a stop, not even one damn second.

And again his mind jumped back… He'd called the hospital and asked about Randy, they'd told him that they weren't allowed to tell him anything. Three Times. He'd tried three times to get any kind of information but he only ended up sitting alone at home, frustrated and worried. And he still felt immensely guilty.

For six days he stayed at home like a hermit, not answering calls or short messages or knocks at his door. Then he received that special short message from Punk that got him out of his lethargy.

_Answer your damn calls! God knows I'm gonna regret that… Call his parents, idiot!_

A number was attached. John had no idea how the hell Punk had gotten the number of Randy's parents but he wasted no time with asking him that and made the call.

He'd talked to Randy's mom and it hadn't been a pleasant conversation. Randy's parents refused to visit their son because of a fight they'd had. To say John had been shocked would have been an understatement. If you refuse to visit your son whose life is on the brink of death then there must've been _far more_ than a simple fight.

John didn't ask further, he wouldn't have gotten an answer anyway. In the end she told John, that Sam wouldn't visit Randy either.

John suggested that _he_ could go and look after Randy. And to his surprise Randy's mom agreed. An hour later the hospital called him and John was told that he'd been named as Randy's next of kin.

No friends, not his ex-wife, not even his closest family… there was nobody who wanted to know if Randy would get through this. This was so… _sick_.

Randy had chosen to be on his own and he made a good job of it. Now he was literally completely alone.

„No, not alone. Not anymore," John murmured and let his fingertips brush tenderly over the back of Randy's hand, bearing the little hope that the contact would cause a reaction.

But there was none. Nothing. Not even the tiniest of movements…

When he arrived at the hospital the first thing he did was talking to the doc. Multiple cuts and lacerations that needed lots of stitches. Bruises. The left arm was broken three times. The left collarbone was broken, too. Broken ribs, a disruption of the lung, a bruised liver. A broken right thigh and two broken vertebrae in the lumbar region. It wasn't sure when Randy would wake up. In an hour? Three weeks? Long weeks in the hospital would follow. And rehab.

All he could do was stare at the doctor and nod. Not one word came over his lips. After the conversation he sat on a lonely chair in the corridor in front of Randy's room for a while and tried to process the information.

Now he was here, beside the bed and willed Randy to wake up. Even if Randy would kick him out directly.

Uncountable times John had asked himself why the younger man hated him. He obviously did. And he found no answer, couldn't remember anything he'd said or done to make him that mad.

"What the hell happened? I… I just don't get it, I mean there were times when we talked and even went out for a drink. What have I done that you are so incredibly mad at me? What happened that you push everyone away from you?" John quietly asked into the silence of the room. "I liked those times when we were… friends. I know you wouldn't exactly have called me a friend back then, but for me you were a friend. And despite everyone opinion I know that there is another… amiable Randy under all those layers of egoism, asshole attitudes and what else you bring up to keep people away. I _know_ he's there, I saw him…"

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the bed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Man, I'm tired…" he murmured. "You know what? I'm gonna get me a coffee and in the meantime do me the favor and wake up, okay?"

His hand found back to Randy's and gave it a soft squeeze before he rose and left the room.

When he reached the door, he turned back and let his eyes roam the unconscious man once again, before he closed the door. He leaned his forehead against the doorframe and again a sigh escaped his lips, a heavy, heartfelt sigh. Like so often that day.

"Always the inveterate optimist, aren't we?"

The unexpected but familiar voice made John's head snap around. Punk sat a few meters away on a visitor's chair, arms braced on his knees, hands folded. His lips were only a thin line and an arched eyebrow indicated a _'John, John… stupid boy'_. Slowly Punk rose from his chair and walked over to John.

"What are you doing here?" John asked, trying to keep the exhaustion he felt out of his voice, but the way Phil looked at him made it pretty clear that he not only sounded exhausted.

"I tried to call you but you obviously forgot how to answer calls," Phil remarked. "And when I didn't find you at your place I thought that there's a _smaaaaall_ chance to find you here. And SURPRISE, I was right."

John brushed his hands through his face and asked: "Came here to deliver a sermon?"

"No, I came here to look after you. And now that I see you I guess it was a good idea," the other man replied softly. "You need to take a rest, man. You need a shower and a shave, food and sleep."

Shaking his head no, John started to walk down the corridor and Phil followed.

"No, I can't go home now. What I need is a coffee. I'm gonna wait here until he wakes up."

"Yeah, sure, Cena. What if he wakes up in a week?"

"Then I'm gonna wait here for a week."

"This man is crazy!" Phil proclaimed, pointing at John, before he grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him to the restroom.

"Now, Cena, tell me what you see," Punk demanded when they came to a stop in front of a mirror.

The mirror showed him a pale, very tired looking man with dark circles around the eyes and uncontrolled beard growth. John wanted to turn away from that picture but Phil held him in place.

"John," Phil murmured, "they're going to call you when he wakes up. It is absolutely okay if you allow yourself a rest. You're not helping him if you collapse again."

Defeated John gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Attaboy. Come on, let's go home…"

x

A while later they sat in John's kitchen, John having a beer, Phil sipping a coffee. They had been talking about random stuff, trying to bring up a better mood but they ended up sitting in silence, thinking.

John wondered why Phil was here. Okay, they were friends… he had a lot of friends but Phil was the only one who was there to talk, to help. On the other hand… he hadn't answered calls and short messages, so what did he expect?

His eyes swept through the kitchen and stopped at Phil, who stared at him with a soul-searching expression.

"This is going to break you if you're not careful, okay? _He_ is going to break you," Punk said into the silence, his voice insistently.

John frowned and looked down at his beer.

"Huh… I thought you were different," he replied quietly.

He was tired of people telling him to stop care about _'that fucking asshole'_. They didn't know Randy. He was sick about explaining himself to those people. And he'd really thought Phil was one of the few people who accepted his decision without further discussion.

John felt Phil's gaze on him and kept staring at his beer.

"John… you're falling for him and he's not going to return your feelings…"

That got John's attention. His eyes snapped back up to the man.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Punk?" he growled. "Are you calling me gay?"

Phil took a sip, set the mug back down on the table and pursed his lips. His hands played a little with the mug while he held John's gaze.

"We've had similar cases were you tried to be a friend for guys nobody else liked," Phil continued and John focused back on his beer. "The difference is: in those cases you decided after a while that it's a dead loss. But this time you seem to be willed to risk everything and more. He told you uncountable time to stop sticking your nose into his business. He even tried to punch your lights out. And you have nothing better to do than try it again and again. Come on, you have a soft spot for Randy. Don't tell me otherwise.

"You are nuts!" John threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed to the world in general: "This man is nuts!"

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe I'm nuts, Cena. But I saw you that night. I saw your face, your eyes and I heard your voice. There _is_ more. We both know it."

John jumped up from his chair, walked over to the coffee machine and leaned on the counter, his back turned towards Phil.

"Stop that shit," he snapped.

"Okay, then look me in the eye and tell me that I'm wrong", Punk huffed.

John would just have needed to turn around and tell him exactly that. But he couldn't. Under different circumstances he would have looked the man straight in the eyes, pretending that Phil was on a completely wrong way. But under different circumstances he probably wouldn't have been so tired and too weak to pretend… and maybe Phil wouldn't have been so damn right…

Instead he hung his head and closed his eyes.

"I'm not judging you and you know that I'm not going to tell anyone anything," he said and got up from his place, walking over to where John stood. "I just want you to be careful that you're not losing yourself into whatever this is. And… if you need help or someone to talk to…"

John took a deep breath and whispered: "Thanks, Phil."

Punk patted his shoulder and let his hand rest there.

"You should go to bed," he murmured. "Call me if you need something. Or if he wakes up. Okay?"

John nodded and side gazed at the man. Punk smiled encouraging, squeezed the broad shoulder lightly and started back for home.

Minutes later John still stood at the same spot, not able to move an inch. Phil's words echoed in his mind, words that bared facts which John never wanted to name.

God damn yes, he had a soft spot for Randy and there was _more_, he knew that all too well. And he knew that even if Randy would ever let pass his well-built defenses… he would never return…it. There, he couldn't even call it by its name.

A groan of pure exhaustion passed John's lips. He had to drag himself into bed somehow, although he was sure that he wouldn't have a fitful sleep… or sleep at all. Finally he pushed himself away from the counter and started his way to the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys! I hope you all had a merry christmas with lots of presents ;-)  
Another chap to this story for the old year. And I want to thank everyone for reading my stories and reviewing!  
Wish you all a good start into the new year! Kisses and hugs to all of you!

xxx

For some people the night might be a friend. For John it was hell. For hours he kept tossing and turning, torn between wanting to sleep and being afraid of falling asleep. He was so incredibly tired but every time he closed his eyes those pictures came back. And in the time he didn't sleep Phil's words haunted him…

Phil. This man had always a surprise up his sleeve. For years they had been working side by side and yes, they were friends. But he would never have guessed that Phil cared so much… about him. Since that night Phil had shown a side of him he'd kept hidden very well to the world. Why? Why would he now show it to him? He probably should ask him that. But first of all he should tell him that he was grateful for his support.

And why had this man to be so damn sensitive? He'd noticed John's… whatever it was… for Randy.

Oh god damn, his soft spot, his… crush… on Randy. Whenever he thought about him, when he saw him, he got a strange, lighthearted feeling. Although Randy was pushing him away with all his might… he wanted to be close to the younger man. Spend as much time as possible with him, talk to him. Be his friend.

He would be content with being friends. He had no right to ask for more. And John was sure that over the time his crush would lessen anyway. Really, he was straight as an arrow, how serious could his crush on another man be? Not very… right? Right.

_Serious enough to risk everything…_ a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

"Nah, fuck!" he exclaimed and punched his pillow.

Sighing he rolled out of the bed and padded down into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. His eyes fell on his cell. Pursing his lips he grabbed it and flipped it open. Was five a.m. too early to call people? Probably. He started to type a short message to Phil.

_Hey. How about dinner tonight at my place? _

He hit the send-button and at the same second he mentally smacked his head. That sounded like an invitation for a date.

A moment later his cell beeped. An answer from Phil. It was only one word.

_Sleep!_

John smiled and typed: _Tried to, mom, but I can't._

Another moment later his cell rang and the caller-ID showed _Punk_. He answered the call.

"Hey, Phil. Sorry if I woke you."

"No it's fine, you didn't wake me," Phil reassured him. "But YOU should be sleeping. Shall I come over and make you hot milk and read you a story?"

"Oh, yeah, that would be great!" he chirped happily while padding over to his living-room, where he dropped down on the couch.

The only answer he got to that was an amused chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Uhm, listen… I wanted to say thank you for being there for me. For being a friend," John said, all serious.

"Anytime, John," Phil replied quietly. "Soooo, you invite me over for a date?" he continued after a few seconds of companionable silence, amusement back in his voice.

"Tsss… yeah. Oh, and get yourself all dolled up, okay? I don't date people with baggy looks," John joked back. "Around seven?"

"Seven is great. Oh, and John?"

"Yeah?"

"Sleep!"

John heard a faint snigger before the line fell dead. Tossing his cell aside he leaned his head back, resting it against the couch. Funny. To hear Phil's voice worked somehow calming on him. He yawned and closed his yes. And while he thought about what they would have for dinner he slipped into a dreamless sleep…

x

The first thing he did when he woke up around 11 a.m. was to drive to the company where he fetched a few things from his locker. On his way out of the changing room something at Randy's locker caught his attention. Something small, sticking out between the locker door and the frame… Something important… Nodding to himself he pulled it out and pocketed it. Then he went to Vince's bureau and wangled enjoyably easy two more weeks off out of his boss.

The next thing wasn't as pleasant. He made his round and apologized to his friends for not answering their calls and short messages. To his big surprise no one was miffed about his ignorant behavior. On the contrary. Between all the _"How are you?"_s and _"Good to see you!"_s there were lots of hugs and everyone was looking forward for him coming back.

John was surrounded by his co-workers, talking and joking when _the call_ came. He froze and although he saw his co-workers talk to him and one another the world around him fell silent. All that he heard was the voice on the other end of the line, telling him that Randy… was awake. _Finally_. A wave of pure relief washed through him.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, his voice sounding somehow distant to his own ears.

Flipping his cell shut, he gazed into the round and slowly the voices came back, asking him if he was okay. Yeah. Yeah, he was okay. More than okay.

_Randy's back…_

A smile spread over his face.

"I'm fine. I… sorry, I gotta go. Randy woke up," he explained.

The news didn't have the same effect on them as they had on him. Their expressions changed from happy to politely, telling John that they had no interest to hear how Randy was doing. And that it would be a long way to repair the damage Randy had caused among his co-workers.

But this was something he would see to later. Now he had to get to the hospital as fast as possible. Excusing himself he all but ran to his car.

His ride to the hospital seemed to take endless minutes yet when he arrived there it felt like only a few seconds. And now he sat in his car, his eyes fixed on the building and he couldn't even recall the way he'd chosen to drive here. He was nervous, insecure. This was so absurd. He was a grown man, he shouldn't feel like this. Almost giddy. Especially not when Randy's reaction wouldn't be nice. He _knew_ it wouldn't be nice.

Gnawing at his bottom lip he took out his cell and typed a short message to Phil, playing for time.

_He's awake._

The answer followed immediately.

_Good thing to hear. But don't let him tear you apart, okay? You promised a dinner for tonight._

John snorted.

_The extend of your worry is heart wrenching, Brooks. See you at my place. Dumbass._

Five minutes later he stood in the corridor in front of Randy's room, waiting for a doctor to come and tell him about Randy's current status. Pacing up and down he wondered what he should say to Randy. First and foremost he had to come up with something that hindered the younger man to kick him out immediately. Which was most likely going to happen before he would say even one word. Maybe he should just walk in and chain himself to Randy's bed. Waaait… too suggestive… Maybe the heater would be the better choice…

No, really, he had no damn idea what to say. Oh, hey, how are you and by the way I saved your life? Nope. I know you hate me but hey, let's be friends? Uhm… no. At which point had he become so ineloquent?!

"Mister Cena?"

John spun around. A white dressed, very important looking man stood behind him.

"Oh, hey doc. How is Randy?"

"He is surprisingly fit for someone who just woke up from a coma," the man explained and somehow his patience seemed to be taxed. "Almost too fit, considering his injuries. Since he woke up the nurses try to persuade him to drink, but he refuses to. And he threatened to take legal steps if we put him back on the I.V."

The doctor frowned.

"Maybe you can talk to him?"

John looked at him and tried not to laugh, because a) this was so very Randy-like which was good because it meant that his health was actually better than expected and b) yeah, Randy would sure as hell take advice from him. He nodded nevertheless.

"Gonna try my best."

The doctor looked up when the door to Randy's room opened and revealed a very exhausted nurse. She walked down the corridor, shaking her head.

"If you excuse me?" the doctor said, walking up to the young women.

John strolled over to Randy's room, thinking how a simple white door can suddenly appear like the entrance to the lion's den. Or the Viper's den in this case…

_Okay… let's go in, John. How bad can it get?_ John thought and caught himself by fiddling at the hem of his shirt. _Nice, we're back at being a giddy school-girl…_

Opening the door he braced himself, walked in and was greeted by peaceful silence. For about three seconds. Then the silence was ripped in pieces by a bad-tempered voice.

"I told you to fucking stay out!"

Yep, definitely Randy's voice, though it wasn't as strong and full as usual. A little breathless, weak. Hoarse. Randy hadn't noticed John being the unwanted visitor, because he was occupied with a coughing fit resulting of his loud speaking.

"Aah, nice to hear your lovely voice again!" John chirped, walking up to the bed.

The coughing stopped and a scorching glare hit John.

"You!" the younger man exclaimed.

The coughing fit came back and John raised an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't bitch around so _loud_. Not good for your lung, you know?"

His eyes caught two cups and a bottle of water on the side table beside the bed and he grabbed one of the cups, filling it and waited until Randy finally stopped coughing.

"Get out," Randy choked.

John shook his head no and held the cup right in front of the younger man's nose. Randy glared at the cup and back at John.

"No. Drink."

The cup was slapped from John's hand. So Randy's right arm was working pretty good. The doc had been right, he was very fit for someone who had been in a coma. Shrugging his shoulders, John filled the second cup and held it towards Randy. It was slapped from his hand, too.

A furious "Get THE FUCK out!" followed.

Again shrugging his shoulders John set the bottle back on the table and left the room.

Randy closed his eyes and sighed satisfied. Finally he was alone. How could John dare to come here? He hissed at the thought of the man. The last thing he remembered was their fight in the pub and then he woke up in a hospital, in pain and people telling him he that he'd been in coma for days… and NOW that brazen person comes here… Groaning he rubbed his temple. Everything was so confusing…

His thoughts were interrupted when the door jumped open and revealed… John. John, who was carrying three more bottles of water and lots of plastic cups. Unbelieving Randy watched him walk up and put the stuff on the table, before he grabbed himself a chair to sit down beside the bed. _Then_ John grabbed one of the cups, filled it and held it towards Randy.

Randy gaped at him in utter disbelief. And slapped the cup out of John's hand. John filled another cup and it was slapped away. And again and again. And again. Until the blanket, the floor and partly John, too, were dripping wet.

A game of patience. Randy felt incredibly tired but he refused to show it. He wouldn't show any kind of weakness in front of HIM. And John, being John, refused to admit even for a second that this could be a hopeless case.

"There are hundreds of those cups out there, Randy. Just drink some water and everything's fine," John suggested, cocking his head.

Randy was acting like a pouting child and to his own surprise John had a hard time to stay calm about his behavior.

"What is your fucking problem, Cena?! I don't want you here, don't you get it?!" the younger man hissed. "What the fuck do you want?!"

"I just want to talk," John replied and he felt anger coil up in his stomach.

"But I don't want to talk! Get out!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, squinted his eyes and whispered: "Fine, you don't need to talk. Just listen…"

"NO!"

"I don't even _expect_ a thank you for saving your ass, but at least listen to me, Orton!" John suddenly exploded, shooting up from the chair and leaning on the edge of the bed, one of his fists punching the mattress hard.

Chiding himself for losing his self-control he sat back down on the chair.

With a cold glare Randy tried to cover up that John's words got him by surprise. He had no idea what happened after he'd left the pub. All he knew was that he had been involved in a car accident. No one had told him about the details. Why would John say something like that…?

"What the fuck do you mean, you saved my ass?" Randy growled.

"I was the one who pulled you out of your damn car," John said, not without a certain amount of sarcasm he simply couldn't hold back, because he could not grab him and shake some sense into him but he knew very well that information would sting the younger man. "Now, will you listen?"

Randy couldn't believe it. Of all people, did it have to be John? Brows furrowed over cold grey eyes as Randy pressed his lips together to a thin line and John wasn't quite sure if this was a strange way to agree and if Randy just had a hard time to keep his mouth shut just for once or if this was a _I don't listen to you_-face. And once more John wondered how one single person could be filled with so much bitterness. Either way, since Randy actually _was_ keeping his mouth shut John used the chance and said what he wanted to say.

"I should have done something. Anything," John continued. "Huh… I shouldn't have told you to go to hell in the first place. I didn't mean it, you know? I didn't mean any of those fucking insults I threw at you. Not one word. All I wanted that night was talk to you, like we did in the past. Just talk. Because I miss that. I should have tried harder to make you stay. Yeah, I know, you would have left anyway, but only a few moments longer in the bar and you wouldn't be here."

Randy stared at John and it was all he could do, just stare at the man, frozen and taken aback by words he never would have expected to hear from him.

Moments swept by until the younger man finally managed to shake his surprise off.

"What do you want? Absolution? No dice, Cena!" he spit, back to his old self, again ending up in a coughing fit.

John remained still and the lack of reaction from the older man pissed him off. And it pissed him off that he couldn't push the unwanted guest out of his room. His fingers itched to start a needless attempt to get this man out here nevertheless.

And then John made the next move to surprise him. The older man opened one of his hands and revealed something that made Randy freeze like a deer in the headlight. A pink and light blue striped hairband…

"I found this in the changing room, it stuck to your locker," John murmured. "It's one of your daughter's hairbands as far as I know. At least I saw you wear it on your little finger outside the ring."

While he spoke, he took hold of Randy's good hand and put the hairband around his little finger and the younger man was too surprised to even give any kind of resistance.

"I thought you would like to have it close to you." When the hairband was in place, he let go of the hand and looked back up to Randy. "I know that there is nobody left to look after you and yes, I know that you _say_ that you want to be alone. Honestly, is that what you really want? Randy, _please_, give me a chance to show you that I really want to be a friend for you."

And then he took the nurse-call and gave it to Randy.

"Now, if you want me to get out of here, go ahead. Call a nurse, tell her that you don't want me here and I promise to go and never bother you again," John said quietly, his voice deadly serious.

Randy scowled at John, utterly confused. He wanted to hate that man but how could he when he dared to say and do things like that? No. He couldn't let this happen…

His eyes swept down to the nurse-call, to the hairband and back to John. Finally. _Finally_. He could be on his own again. All he had to do was push that damn thing and he would finally get rid of this man. No more interference, no more annoying questions, no more… John Cena. Who tried to make him believe that he actually cared, who tried to help him without being asked for help. A humorless smirk grew around his lips. And then he pressed the button. John sighed silently but didn't move a bit. He should have expected this.

They kept staring at each other until the door opened. A nurse came in and Randy gazed over to her.

"Could you please tell Mister Cena… where he can get me a new blanket? I dropped my water on it."

And while the nurse explained that _she_ would get him a new blanket immediately, John gaped at the younger man, too surprised to say a word. That was until the door fell shut. Randy's humorless smirk turned into a smug one and John couldn't help but chuckle.

"You are an idiot, Orton," John remarked, very much relieved and without any reproach.

"Look who's talking, Cena."

John sat down on the edge of the bed, studying Randy's face. He had pushed his luck by handing Randy the nurse-call and suggesting to call someone to kick him out. That brought up the question why the younger man didn't use the chance to get rid of him.

"What changed your mind?" he asked quietly.

_That's a good question_, Randy thought. _What changed my mind?_

Maybe he was curious where this would lead or how long John would put up with him until he would strike the flag? But why now?

"Honestly? I don't know," Randy answered truthfully.

John nodded slowly. He could live with that, at least for now. It was a start and a step in the right direction. He filled another cup with water and handed it to the younger man, who took it and drank at last.

And maybe it was the fact that John stubbornly refused to give up that changed Randy's mind. It wasn't easy to admit but it felt good that someone honestly cared… Sipping the water he watched the older man put away the wet blanket and he didn't miss that John flinched when his gaze fell on the splint on his right leg and all the bandages that showed out from under the silly gown he wore.

The door opened and the nurse came in, giving a new blanket to John. She murmured something and the older man nodded. He took the empty cup from Randy, set it on the side-table and started to spread the new blanket over the bed, stopping at Randy's hip.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and after a few seconds of hesitation he dared to reach out and touched Randy's chest lightly, letting his fingers ghost down to the younger man's belly. He felt the thick bandage that was wrapped around his upper torso through the gown. It _hurt_ to see him like that.

Randy remained stock-still, holding his breath. That touch went far beyond everything that he'd allowed anyone else in the past months. He wasn't sure what to say. Stop that? No… The expression on the older man's face, compassionate, almost pained, and the gentle touch… It wouldn't have been fair. This, his touch was okay. No. It was… good.

"Does it hurt badly?" John whispered.

His hand still hovered over Randy's belly, almost like he tried to heal the wounds by sheer will power.

"No. The painkillers are doing a great job."

John pulled his hand back. The low rumble of Randy's voice sounded tired, weak. A pang of guilt hit him, reminded him that Randy's injuries were _severe_ and that he shouldn't stress him like he'd done earlier.

"You need rest," John said, got up and pulled the blanket up to Randy's shoulders. "Sleep a little, okay?"

John gave him a small smile and made his way to the door. For a second Randy was tempted to reach out to hold him back. He didn't though. Somehow he didn't want John to leave but he couldn't bring himself to just _say_ it. Instead he watched him leave.

When John reached the door he looked back at him and almost as if he had read Randy's thoughts he said: "I'm gonna come back later if it's okay?"

"Yeah," Randy replied. _Please_, he added in his mind and frowned at his own thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, here is the long overdue next part to this story. It might not be the best chapter but I hope you like it nevertheless…

Anyway, enjoy :D

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When the door closed behind John, Randy's eyes stayed fixed on it for a while. Dumbfounded. He was completely and utterly dumbfounded.

_What was that? How did that happen?_

Did he _really_ let John practically walk through his defenses, _just like that_? For weeks and months his effort had been to prevent something like that and now… Less than an hour… It had taken John less than an hour. He groaned. That man! Now John would less than ever stay away, now that he had his foot in the door.

The last hour replayed in his head. That man was unbelievable. Ignore him and he comes back. Dis him and he comes back. Punch his lights out and he comes back. Give him attention and he won't go away at all. Why? Because. _Just because._ That was why he'd tried so hard to push John away in the past. He groaned again and blamed the state he was in for his weakness.

Then his eyes fell on the hairband.

On the other hand… could be worse, right? To be honest, John _was_ a nice guy, even though he always tried to convince himself otherwise. All the trouble John was taking… And really, when John smiled that special smile of his, how could you not like him? That smile was contagious. He liked that smile. Especially when those dimples showed up. Those freaking cute dimples.

_Wait, what am I thinking?_

Randy sighed. And yes, he was tired of being alone and yes, maybe a little company could be nice. Leaning his head back against the pillows, he closed his eyes.

John was good company, he knew that. He knew it ever since they went out that first time for a drink. That man seemed to have exclusive rights on good mood, always happy, always cheerful, always optimistic and always the carefree goofball who tries to cheer you up.

Randy smiled absentmindedly. He would never have guessed that John had any interest on being friends with him back then. Every time they'd met John's smile dropped a few degrees and he never acted the way with Randy as he did with his other co-workers. Okay, he'd always been polite and never tried to avoid him, but still… And then, out of the blue, John came to him after a match and asked if he was up for a beer after the show. He'd never had many friends along his co-workers, so he thought, why not, just one beer can't end up in a disaster.

He agreed and for the first time ever John gave him that megawatt smile of his, all dimples. He'd seen that smile so often, but it had never been directed at him before and _that very moment_ it was almost blinding and it left him giddy with anticipation. They went out alone, because John declined every other invitation for a drink, and Randy couldn't remember another time before that he'd laughed so much and so hard like he'd done that evening or the following times they went out together. And he'd seldom had comparable carefree and enjoyable moments in his life…

It wasn't easy to admit, but he had loved those evenings or to have a chat during work with this goofball of a man. John had so many friends and Randy still wondered why John had tried so hard to get him out of his shell back then and now again.

And then _it_ happened, turning his life upside down. _It_ had cost him everything, even his family. Bit by bit his life fell apart and at some point he'd started to push everyone away. How could he let someone into his life when _it_…? It was only a matter of time…

His thoughts jumped back to the accident. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd died that night. The whole fucking shit would have had an end… He couldn't remember anything, really, and when John said that he'd pulled him out… Why? The _why_ was still present. Why would he do that? Risking his life after all the time Randy had treated him like shit? Just because they had spent some companionable evenings together? Those few evenings compared to all that John had done to get a chance to talk to him? Not a good trade for John. So again, _why_?

Maybe he'd made a mistake today by give in to John. He knew that they would both get hurt by this, sooner or later… But John wouldn't let himself being pushed away again and Randy wasn't sure if he _really_ _wanted_ to push John away _again_…

Bringing his good hand up he pinched the bridge of his nose, brushed it over his forehead, unsure what to do with the situation and let his hand fall onto his legs. His eyes snapped open, fixing his gaze on his legs and his hand that rested there. Right, there was another thing John did not know…

Randy sighed heavily, exhaustion taking its toll. He should go to sleep, since he was incredibly tired and he was sure John _would_ come back. Trying to get as comfortable as possible he closed his eyes again and let sleep catch up with him.

x

On the other side of the door John stood in the middle of the corridor, a lunatic smile plastered to his face and his heart swelling with joy. He'd managed it. He'd managed to crack Randy's shell.

_Woah…_

He couldn't believe it. For weeks his efforts had been of no avail and occasionally painful, too, and now? He glimpsed at his watch. Less than an hour. So unlike Randy to give in so soon. His smile dimmed a little, because suddenly he felt like he'd taken advantage of Randy's weakness after just waking up…

Nah. Whatever. John's smile lightened up again full force. He would make it up to him later. And again, his smile dimmed. He would make it up to him, provided Randy wouldn't change his mind again and shut him out again.

_Come on, Cena, think positive. He might not be in his best form, but doubtless enough himself that he'd not given in to you if he really wouldn't want that._

He nodded to himself and started to walk down the corridor, his smile not quite as lunatic as before, but still more than sunny enough to make everyone who was passing him smile, too. Thinking that it was time for a coffee, he made a beeline to the coffee shop he'd seen on the other side of the street.

Thirty minutes later he sat in the coffee shop, a steaming coffee in front of him. He'd bought a tomato mozzarella sandwich, too, just in case Randy was hungry and he knew the younger man liked healthy food _and_ he knew that the food one got in hospital made rather sick than be of help to get well again. Beside the sandwich lay a new prepaid cell he got from a nearby mobile store.

John eyed the little bag that contained the sandwich and took a sip on his coffee. Although he knew that there was a small chance that Randy had changed his mind in the meantime – this was Randy Orton after all, you never knew – he'd decided that he wouldn't worry any longer about being kicked out again.

He chuckled into his coffee as his thoughts drifted back to their little water fight. A pouting Randy was way too cute and funny. Okay, also annoying, but he was okay with it. John was aware that he could be annoying, too, at times. Again a light chuckle escaped his lips while his gaze roamed the street through the wide window of the coffee shop, stopping at the façade of the hospital.

He did it and he still couldn't quite believe it. The funny thing about the situation now was that he had no idea what to do or where to go from here. Really, all the time he'd only thought about a way to finally get through to Randy and he'd run all possible scenarios through his mind what could happen on his way to this particular goal. He never actually lost a thought about what would follow. The situation had changed. It should have been a simple – and okay, in this case it was a rough – start of a friendship. And now?_ Randy's_ situation had changed. Now he needed help, even though the younger man would _never_ admit that.

_He would never admit it, but he knows it. Still he changed his mind and let me in…_

Except himself there was no one else left to help Randy, not his parents, not his wife. He put his coffee back down and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, thinking about how he would juggle his job and the visits here… And Randy would need someone to look after him when he was allowed to go back home. Household, rehab… And they weren't quite living next to each other…

A strange calmness fell over him.

He pursed his lips as he fished for his cell and hit the speed dial for Vince's number.

"Hey, Vince," he greeted his boss. "Listen, uhm… about my time-out… I need you to take me out of the show for an indefinite time…"

x

After three hours John made his way back to Randy's room, the little sandwich bag and two coffees in his hands. He was a little antsy about how Randy would welcome him. And there were a few things that needed to be talked about.

He wouldn't tell Randy about his conversation with Vince though. After he'd told his boss about his decision, there had been a pause on the other end of the line and then came the question if he was round the bend. They had discussed the matter for a few minutes, Vince being a little louder than John and frankly pissed, and now John had a lot of time. He would send his resignation tomorrow. It wasn't what he wanted but it had been necessary.

Humming he arrived at Randy's room, knocked quietly and when there wasn't a response, he opened the door as quietly as possible, slipped in and walked up to the bed. Randy was still asleep. An angelic sight despite the surroundings. Smiling, he put the sandwich and the coffee on the bed stand, sat down on the edge of the bed and took hold of Randy's hand. The long fingers closed loosely around his, making the smile on John's face light up.

He allowed himself to hold the younger man's hand a few more moments, letting his thumb slide gently over the back of Randy's hand, making him hum in his sleep. With his free hand he reached out, brushing over the short hair, over his cheek to his chest, where it settled on the spot over his heart. All this still seemed so unreal. The accident, that Randy was alive, that John now sat here, knowing that it was okay for the younger man.

In a hushed voice he said: "Thank you."

A mumble. A sigh. The fingers closed a bit tighter around John's and then the grey eyes opened up, focusing their sleepy gaze on John.

"Hey," Randy mumbled.

"Hey," John replied quietly. "Sorry, didn't want to wake you."

"Nah, 's okay," Randy yawned, pulling his hand out of John's to rub his eyes. "Mmh… I smell coffee…"

"Yeah, I got you one. And a sandwich. Hungry?"

Randy snatched the coffee from John's hand and stared at it.

"Decaf? Oh, come on…!"

The older man shrugged his shoulders.

"You gotta live with it. I don't think that caffeine would be good for you right now."

Muttering under his breath, Randy sipped at the coffee, watching John unwrap the sandwich. When he handed the coffee over to John, the older man had to laugh softly as his eyes fell on the milk froth on Randy's upper lip.

Randy eyed him suspiciously and asked: "What?"

"You have milk on your upper lip," he explained and reached out to thumb it away.

It was a gentle touch as John wiped the milk away, still Randy looked like he wanted to avoid it. He didn't though.

"Sorry," John apologized, drawing his hand back. "We should do something against the pretty uncontrolled beard growth you have at the moment, you know?

At a tiny nod from Randy he handed the sandwich over to him and thought that he should just stop touching him without asking first.

For half an hour they talked about random things and John thought about a good way to address a few things he wanted to settle before he would go home. First of all he needed to tell Randy that his parents had noted him as his next of kin. Then he wanted to know how often he was allowed to drop in. And then someone had to look for Randy's business at home. But he simply found no fitting start, so he decided to just say it.

"Uhm, there is something I gotta tell you," he began reluctantly and with a frown. "After the accident I called the hospital to ask how you're doing and since they wouldn't tell me, I called you parents…"

He noticed a shadow that casted over the grey eyes at his words, but he continued.

"They told me that you had a fight. Your mom said that they had no interest in visiting you."

Randy huffed and averted his gaze, his lips tightening to a thin line.

"Listen, I have no idea what happened between you and your parents but I think you should know that they noted me as your next of kin."

Appeasing he held his hands up as Randy's eyes snapped back up to him, a not very happy expression on his face.

"Randy, all I did was asking the doc how you're doing. I didn't decide anything and now you're awake, so…"

After a moment Randy's face softened and he sighed heavily.

"I didn't mean to… it's not your fault, John."

Again John wondered what the hell had happened between Randy and his parents but he didn't dig further and instead jumped to the next point on his list.

"What about your other stuff? Mail, bills? I could take care of it if you like? Look after you house?" John offered, not missing the humorless smirk on Orton's face.

"Sam got the house. Currently I'm living at a hotel and I got me a post-office box, but yeah, if you find the time it probably would be good if you take care about it. The key to the post-office box is in my hotel room. I just gotta inform the hotel somehow."

For a moment John was speechless. As far as he knew it's been weeks, no month's since he'd heard the first rumors that Randy and Sam had broken up. Did he really…?

"Are you telling me that you live there since… uhm… I mean, you and Sam…"

The humorless smirk grew as Randy answered: "Yeah, I live there since we broke up. That'd be four months, three weeks and two days by now."

Mouthing Randy's last words he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Randy had been living at a hotel the whole time. That he had no home to go to after work. Alone, every night, in some impersonal hotel room without his own things. His jaw set as he felt a knot built up in his stomach. But then… an idea formed in his head as he searched Randy's face.

"Randy… you're gonna be here for a while and it would be pointless if you paid the hotel for that time. I could get your stuff from the hotel and store it at my house for a while," he suggested, watching the younger man for a sign that he overstepped a line.

When he saw none, he continued: "And if you're fit enough to leave the hospital you can look for a new apartment, house, hotel room or whatever or you could… well, you could move in with me for the time until you are fully recovered. I've got a guest room and a second bath room and…"

The grey eyes widened a little and his good hand clenched in his blanket. He was obviously feeling uncomfortable.

_Here we go, you found and overstepped the line finally. Well done, Cena…_ John thought, mentally smacking himself.

"See, you don't need to answer that now," he reassured Randy. "You don't need to answer it at all if you don't want, it was just an idea. Anyway, I have something for you."

John produced the new cell from a pocket and laid it on the blanket close to Randy's hand and gave him a small smile.

"I don't know where your cell is so I got you that one. I thought you might want to make some calls. I stored Vince's number and the number of the car repair shop where they brought your car. And I stored my number in the speed dial, just in case you need something."

Randy's eyes fixed on the cell but he kept silent. After a moment his fingers unclenched from the blanket and closed around the cell.

"Okay… just think about it and if you need anything, just call or send a message," John said quietly, hoping that he hadn't just destroyed everything. "I have to go now. I'll drop in tomorrow around lunchtime if it's okay for you?"

Still no words from Randy, only a soft nod. But his eyes flicked up from the cell to John's, an unsure, confused expression shining in them and deciding that it had been more than enough for one day, John got up from the bed, giving Randy's good shoulder a light squeeze before he made his way over to the door. He was almost out of the room when he heard his name being called.

Sticking his head back into the room he asked: "Yeah?"

After a second of hesitation Randy just said: "Yes."

John frowned.

"Yes?"

"Your offer about your guest room," Randy said, the unsure expression still there in his eyes.

John had to smile brightly when he got the message.

"Good," he simply answered and for the first time since he came back here, Randy smiled.

With a short nod John said his goodbye and left, leaving an, again dumbfounded, Randy behind. After a minute of just sitting there in his bed, totally confused and with the cell in his hand, the younger man began to laugh quietly, shaking his head.

Day one: waking up after an accident, for weeks and months well-built defenses overrun by a cheerful goofball, talked into moving in with said goofball. Check. Great, see what day two would have in store…

Move in with John… Either it would turn out to be the best decision he'd made lately or he would regret it already after the first day. Anyway, he had to get out of the hospital first. Enough time to skip the moving in with John if it turned out that they wouldn't get along.

Right now he had a funny feeling in his belly. A tingle… Caused by the way John cared. His thumb brushed over the small device in his hand. The cell… it was just a small visible sign of what John did for him. Being there.

Closing his eyes, he made himself comfortable, thinking of the events of the day and while he dozed off, the cell was still there in his hand…


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, finally I can post part 5 to this. Yay!  
It's not like this is long overdue... or so... Uhm, well.

;D

Enjoy!

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The first thing John did when he came back home was to go to his guest room to clear the closet there out and all the other stuff he'd stored in the room. It took him about an hour until he was done and all the time he was absorbed in his thoughts that were evolving around the events of the day. Every time his mind jumped back to when Randy had agreed to move in, his heart started to beat furiously and a tingle of joy filled him, making him antsy. And his own reaction confused him…

He'd neglected his guest room lately, since he hadn't had guests who stayed overnight in the past months, so when he sat down on the bed and took a look around, the room seemed a little unglamorous. This had to be changed. A new painting? He should ask Randy what he needed beside bed and closet. Maybe his own TV? He could go and get one after his visit at the hospital tomorrow… Right, and he had to ask him what he liked for breakfast and which kind of food he preferred in general despite tomato mozzarella sandwiches.

While John sat there he had to smile about himself. Randy had just woken up from coma and it would take a while until he could move in, maybe weeks. There was more than enough time to get the room back in shape. Oh right, and there was the second bathroom that also needed closer attention.

Closing his eyes, John let himself fall backwards and drifted for a moment in the quietness. It had been a good day. Well, except for the fact that he was jobless. His job had been his life, ever since… but still… when Vince told him that he would not get his time-out for an indefinite time, his decision had been easy. And he didn't feel even the tiniest bit of regret. No, this had been really good day.

If someone had told him a week before that he would sit at Randy's side, talking, even suggesting moving in with him AND quitting his job for the man's sake, he would have called the men with the white jacket. He'd even touched the younger man without being rewarded with a black eye.

John sighed happily. He got through to Randy, finally, and it felt good. It felt right. Warmth spread in his chest as the image of a smiling Randy popped up. It had been a simple smile but nevertheless a beautiful one. A smile he wanted to see every day on the younger man's handsome face from now on…

In a blink John sat upright.

_I haven't really thought this, have I?_

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Randy smile but since when did he find him handsome? John groaned. This had to stop.

The image of a Randy with milk on his upper lips invaded his mind and John had to smile. And then he lifted his hand, looking at it. He still could feel the Randy's beard stubble under his thumb. It had felt so naturally to just touch the younger man that way. It had felt damn good.

Okay, we only had that a minute before, this had to stop. Shaking his head, he got up from the bed and made his way down to the kitchen. He was so damn screwed…

When he arrived there, his eyes fell on his cell. It blinked. Flipping it open, he found a message from… Randy. His heart jumped a bit in joy as he hit the read-button. It was the address of Randy's hotel. And that he'd informed the hotel that his things would be fetched. John started to type an answer.

_Okay, I'm gonna get your things tomorrow. Something else?_

He sent it and put the small device aside, starting with the dinner. But not even half a minute later the cell beeped. Again a message from Randy.

_Yes, there is something else, John. I appreciate what you do. Really. Thank you._

John swallowed and stared at the message for a while. It was the first time Randy thanked him. He hadn't expected a thank you, since Randy had never asked for his help and it had been thanks enough for John that Randy had let him get through his well-built walls. And this message now… it wasn't just a simple thank you and he could imagine that it must've been pretty hard for Randy to send this after all the time he'd tried so hard to keep everyone away.

Warmth spread in his chest as it once more hit him that he'd made it. That he was _the one person_ Randy had finally let in.

_And thank you for letting me do it. Now have some rest, okay?"_

Having his answer typed, he rolled the words silently on his tongue. It sounded somehow weird and those words weren't the ones he wanted to write, but he didn't want to overrun Randy with things like, thank you for letting me be your friend. They weren't back at being friends. Not yet. And he didn't want to thank Randy for letting him help him. John was sure that the younger man didn't want to read the word _help_. It indicated that he _needed_ help and a Randy Orton didn't need help at all, right? All being Mr. Pride. John smiled as he sent the message and got Randy's answer immediately. A smiley…

With a soft laugh he continued with preparing the dinner, while his thoughts kept evolving around the events of the day… and the future.

x

Point seven the doorbell rang and John jogged to the door, a bright smile that threatened to split his face in half lighting up his face. Cheerful he opened said door and beckoned his guest to come in. Phil looked him over, his brows rising to his hairline.

"Hello, sunshine," he greeted John. "I guess your day turned out to be good?"

John's smile only got wider, if possible. Phil held a six-pack root-beer towards him but John only grabbed his arm, pulling him inside.

"So you're not gonna talk to me tonight?" Punk asked incredulous. "I'm not prepared for an evening filling monologue, you know?"

John remained smiling and silent, pulling Phil with him into the kitchen, where he took the six-pack out of the other man's hand to put it into the fridge and threw an already waiting cold one over to him. Grabbing one for himself he sat down at the kitchen table. After a brief moment of hesitation Phil followed and sat down on the opposite side, carefully watching him as if he could suddenly grow a second head or something.

"John, believe me, I _love_ to just sit here and look at your cheerful face, but despite the common opinion I'm a very convivial person and that includes talking with one another, you know?" Phil said slowly, tilting his head to the side. "I've had bad grades at mind-reading in school. So how about you tell me what happened? Come on, let's try together…"

Digging in his pockets, he produced his cell and scrolled through the short messages, until he found what he searched for.

"Message from John-Boy to Phil: He's awake," he read aloud and looked back up to John who frowned amused at the name under which Phil had obviously stored him in his contacts.

When no other reaction came, Phil pursed his lips and looked back down on his cell.

"Message from Phil to John-Boy: Good thing to hear. But don't let him tear you apart, okay? You promised a dinner for tonight," he continued and went on to the next message. "Message from John-Boy to Phil: The extend of your worry is heart wrenching, Brooks. See you at my place. Dumbass."

John chuckled.

Phil squinted his eyes at John, threw his cell over to him and said: "Message from Phil to John-Boy: It is dinner time and I still have nothing to eat and I'm sitting in the kitchen of a lunatic grinning man who's not talking to me. So how about you tell me how your day was until I finally get my food?"

John threw the cell back to its owner and replied: "Message from John-Boy to Phil: The lunatic grinning man is a nice guy, he just wants to annoy you a little because your reactions are very much amusing."

"Oh my, wow, he can speak!" the other man snapped. "You're very funny, Cena. Haha, very funny. Now, spill, what happened?"

And John did. He started at his last message to Phil, over his little conversation with the doctor, to the water-incident, up to his coffee-break and the following conversation with Randy, including his offer to move in.

What he kept to himself was his conversation with Vince and the fact that he'd just quit his job. He wasn't up for a discussion about it right now.

When John ended his report, the big smile returned, all dimples and he looked at Phil, waiting for the man's reaction on the new facts. Phil for his part just sat there, unmoving, lips pursed and eyes wide.

Then: "Oh good God, the poor guy never had a chance."

John mock-glared at him.

"What? I'm the poor guy here. He threw water at me!"

"And _you_ quasi threw _yourself_ at him," Phil replied, tapping his lips with his fingers.

"Well… yeah," John admitted, grinning sheepishly. "I apparently did."

Then Phil's stomach piped up with a growl and both men looked in the main direction of the younger man's belly.

"Uhm… I don't want to be an all too demanding guest, but I'm starving here, John-Boy."

Glancing at his watch, John got up from his chair and to the oven.

"Good timing, Brooks. Food's just ready."

"Uhm… I hope it's nothing made out of plushy and beady-eyed animals?" Phil asked carefully, craning his neck to get a glimpse on the food and earned a laugh from John.

"What? Stop laughing. As much as I like you, you are a Neanderthal, insofar it wouldn't be unlikely to find dead animals in your oven," the Straight-Edge Savior shot back.

"Calm down, it's vegetarian lasagna," he called over his shoulder while taking the food out of the oven. "I know you, Brooks. I wouldn't even _think_ of serving you dead animals."

"I love you, John-Boy," his friend sighed devotedly as a plate full of steaming and mouth-watering lasagna appeared in front of him.

x

Forty companionable minutes later they still sat with root-beer in hand and empty plates in front of them at the kitchen table.

Suddenly changing the subject, Phil asked: "Any progress concerning your being into a man-thing, John-Boy?"

John paused, shocked about such a question out of the blue, his root-beer halfway up to his mouth. Putting the root-beer back on the table, he leaned back in his chair, a frown etched to his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Aah, we're back at denying," the younger man stated. "Come on, you know exactly what I mean."

"I like Randy, so what. That doesn't mean I'm into men," John replied, his voice carefully blank. "I'm straight."

A nod was the answer to this.

"John… is it possible that you are… a _tiny bit_ homophobic?" Phil asked slowly and he watched John's reaction careful.

John stared at him for a moment, before he got up and started to clear the table without even one word. Phil kept watching him thoughtfully. John for his part avoided his gaze.

"No," he replied eventually in a very neutral voice, turning his back towards Phil as he put the dishes into the dishwasher. "Why?"

Arching an eyebrow and pursing his lips, Phil made a slightly amused _tststs_-sound. He pushed his chair a bit backwards and made himself more comfortable on it, crossing his arms over his chest. The arched eyebrow stayed in place as John turned around to him.

"What is it, Brooks?" John asked clipped. "Spill it."

"I just wonder how you'll handle your crush on Randy when he moves in. When your body will do strange things the moments Randy will be very close, and we both know he will be because you'll be the one to help him the whole day in every imaginable awkward situation," Phil explained, not without a bit sarcasm lacing his voice. "Will you be okay with it because, hey, you know you have a crush on him and that's okay? Or will you freak out over it?"

John pressed his lips to a thin line and squinted his eyes at Phil while listening to his speech, before he eventually turned away from him with a huff, focusing his attention back on the dishwasher.

"I don't have a crush on him and I'm not homophobic," he snapped. "And I don't have a problem with a man being close to me, not even naked."

Stuffing the dishes into the device, he silently cursed himself for being such an easy prey for his friend. It was so unlike him to be like that. Having the things sitting in the places he wanted them to, he straightened up and turned around… and came nose to nose with Phil who stood right behind him. He swallowed hard on the startled gasp that wanted to slip through his lips, but he managed to hold it back. He had no idea how Phil even got there so fast and without a sound. But he was there. _Very_ there…

Involuntary he tried to step back but he was stopped immediately by the kitchen counter and found himself being trapped between it and his friend, who gazed at him with strangely sparkling eyes. And those eyes roamed his face and stopped very obviously at his mouth. With a small smirk tugging at the younger man's lips, Phil began to chew at the ring that graced his lower lip. And John couldn't help but watch him do it. The sight drew him in. When the smirk grew, he wrenched his eyes away from the spectacle and found Phil staring at him with a soul-searching expression in those still sparkling eyes. And then Phil moved even closer… if possible. Again John swallowed hard as their chests touched lightly, feeling warmth radiate from him, feeling the fast pounding of a heart and it dawned on him that it was his own.

"You don't have a problem with a man…" the younger man murmured huskily, dipping his head slightly forward until their lips were only separated by an inch or two. "… being so close?"

John found himself unable to move and bring some space between them, not even by leaning back a bit. His arms hung useless at his sides. All it would have needed was to lift them and give Phil a push. He couldn't… And then Phil took hold of his hands and guided them to his waist, holding them in place with his own. The older man's heart skipped a few beats and then some… as he realized that heat coiled up in his stomach. His fingertips tingled. For a blink he felt the urge to tighten his hold and lean forward to close the gap, but then it hit him what he was just about to do and he stopped before even one of his fingers twitched.

"No, I don't have a problem with this," he murmured back, not trusting his voice to speak louder.

To his own surprise it wasn't a lie. He _did_ _not_ have a problem with it, at least not in a homophobic way…

_Shit._

With the tiniest of nods Phil drew his head back, but did not move otherwise.

"What is your fucking problem, Phil?" the older man then hissed, but it lacked of intensity.

Finally managing to get a grip on his self-control, he used his hold on the other man's waist to push him backwards a bit, gently though, creating much-needed space and pulled his hands out of Phil's.

"I wanted to know what kind of a guy you are when it comes to this. And, you know, I _still_ try to figure out what's driving you when it comes to Randy," Phil explained. "Since you claim to NOT have a crush on him."

"And what the hell has this shit to do with Randy?"

"Everything, John-Boy, because all I get from you are bits and pieces of information and emotions and ideas and I try to build a picture out of all this. And there are still spots in this picture that need to be filled and since you don't give me the answers, I need to get them myself."

His speech reeled, Phil crossed his arms over his chest and waited for John to say something.

"I just want to help him, is that such a wrong thing to do, Punk?"

"Oh, good, he's Punk-ing me," the younger man said to the world in general and to John in particular: "No, it is not wrong, it's just interesting to watch how much effort you put into this construction site of a man. And I really wonder how you got Vince to give you a timeout for as long as you want, need or whatever. Really."

Silence fell and John averted his gaze. Why had Phil to be so damn good at putting his fingers on things he tried to hide away?

_Damn shit…_

"John?"

Phil's voice was low and questioning and then he stepped into the older man's view. And John breathed out audibly, knowing that he wouldn't get away with it.

"I quit," he stated flatly.

He saw a strange expression cross Phil's face and he saw, too, how the sarcastic remark the man wanted to throw at him literally got stuck in his throat. Eyes widened… a gasp followed. Brows furrowed and then Phil gave him an impressive imitation of a fish. It was almost funny to watch the facial goulash his friend presented him. It was more than clear that he'd gotten the message. And that he was at least a _tiny bit_ surprised. So to say.

For a few more seconds the Straight-Edge Savior stared at him slack-jawed before he sputtered: "Are you nuts?! Oh wait, right, you're John Cena! Why am I surprised anyway?!"

The older man rubbed his hands through his face and replied decidedly: "I need the time. And I'm not going to discuss this. Period."

Pushing past Phil, John made his way to the fridge, getting himself a beer and walked over to his living-room with the other man close on his heels, where they both sat down on the couch, Phil facing John with an unreadable expression plastered to his face.

"You know what, Cena? Sometimes…," Phil began and huffed a bitter chuckle. "Huh… sometimes I'm not sure whether you're simply very stupid or very courageous. Or maybe both, I mean the difference between stupidity and courage is very marginal AND we're talking about you, right? I know I'm repeating myself, but if you're not careful this will tear you apart. Do you really, and I mean _really_, think that it's worth it?"

John face darkened at Punk's words but in fact it wasn't only because he was pissed that Phil said them, but because they strung a chord deep within him that agreed with the man. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath to calm down but his eyes narrowed as he met Phil's honest and sharp eyes.

"You know, Phil, in such situations is the only thing that counts how much heart you put into it, no matter on which side you end up," John growled back. "And whether you call it stupid or courageous, fact is, yeah, I think it's damn worth it. _He_'s worth it. And if helping him will tear me apart… so be it."

The last words though were spoken very quietly and Phil searched John's face for a few seconds. Then his eyes softened and a small smile grew on his face.

"Okay. Good. That's all I needed to know, John," he then said gently, ignoring the urge to push the admit-it-you-have-a-crush-on-Randy-button again. "If you think he's worth it, then I'm gonna be at your side, okay?"

Looking down at his hands, John tried to blink back a hot burning in his eyes. A heavy weight was lifted off his chest as those words were spoken, a weight he hadn't even realized being there.

"Thanks, Phil," he whispered relieved, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands.

A second later he felt the couch dip as his friend scooted closer, settling a gentle hand on the broad shoulder and John closed his eyes at the soothing touch. For a while they sat in silence and Phil's hand stayed on John's shoulder the whole time. Then a question invaded John's mind.

"Phil, back at the kitchen, did you…" John then asked quietly, but he had no idea how to finish his question.

Did you really want to kiss me? Are you… gay? No, he couldn't ask that… Phil seemed to sense what was on his mind. Squeezing the broad shoulder lightly, he made John look up eventually.

"John… I really like you, so I guess you deserve the truth. I'm bi. Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you or something like that. I just wanted to test you back in the kitchen. Uhm, this is something I normally don't tell people, so please keep it to yourself. I'm not ashamed of it, but you know how people tend to react to such news. And I really hope you don't kick me out of your life, now that you know it…"

Softly shaking his head no, John said: "No. Never."

Again silence fell for long moments, in which they simply watched each other, before the younger man eventually tried to get a conversation going, choosing a save subject. And for the rest of the evening it was what he did, distracting John, making sure that their conversation stayed on neutral terrain, while John was still trying to become accustomed to the fact that for once he was the one being taken care of.

And for once… he let himself fall…


	6. Chapter 6

Here we go again.

Thanks to BrightAsNight and Bluestar711 for leaving a comment :D

Bluestar711: Thank you so much! And oh yeah, lots of realizations ;-)

BrightAsNight: Yup, poor Punk D: Let me spoiler just a bit, there's much more of Phil to come…

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It was already around 10 a.m. when John finally crawled out of his nice and comfy warm bed, hit the shower, made his way down to his living-room and found the couch, where he supposed a dozy Phil, empty. Except for a note.

_You read this, means you have finally fallen out of your nest. Surprising enough but good. It's 6 a.m. and by the sounds of it you're busy with cutting down the rain forest. I can't sleep, and yes, it's your fault, but since I'm a nice guy, I'm not going up there and kick you awake. Instead I'm going home now and try to catch up some sleep. You owe me something for letting you have your sleep. Maybe I should warn Randy that he's never ever gonna find sleep again if he moves in with you. You know what you do is grievous bodily harm, don't you? Oh, and Sunshine? I hope your day will be as sunny as your smile… Really. Come on, I want you to smile, I know you can do it… Atta boy ;-) _

Smiling softly, he ran his thumb over the paper and walked over to his kitchen, where he pinned the note to his fridge. Somehow he didn't want to throw it away. Standing there a little longer with his eyes fixed on the note, his mind drifted back to the moment when Phil had him trapped against the counter. He'd been so close, _so close_… Blue eyes drifted close and for a second it felt like Phil was there, right before him. And suddenly the heat he'd felt the night before was back, again coiling up in his stomach…

His eyes snapped open.

_God damn, get a grip, Cena. He's a man!_

Shaking his head he went for a quick breakfast, before he drove to Randy's hotel to collect his things. When he opened the door to Randy's hotel room, he was greeted by an almost sterile atmosphere and shockingly few personal things. Some clothes, a single book, toothbrush, shaver, a few personal papers, the key to the post-office box. And a picture beside the bed.

John took it and sat down on the bed, looking at it for a while. The picture had been folded in the middle and the visible part was showing a little girl, obviously Randy's daughter. He fiddled it out of the frame and outspread it revealed a beautiful woman, holding the girl's hand. And this was obviously Sam, his wife. Putting it back into the frame the way he'd found it, he stored it between Randy's clothes to make sure it would reach him unharmed.

He kept sitting on the bed for a while, trying his best to swallow down the lump that built up in his throat as he realized how lonely Randy must've felt all the time. Surrounded by this… _nothing_.

"What the hell happened to you, Randy?" he murmured into the quietness, his eyes roaming the comfortless room.

Eventually he left the room, checked out in Randy's name and made his way to the post-office box, which badly needed to be taken care off. That done, he drove directly to the hospital, quickly fetching two coffees and the promised sandwich and rushed to Randy's room.

In front of it he stopped dead. The always busy noises of the hospital faded into the background as he stood there, coffee and sandwich in his hands and a bag with a few clothes and other stuff for Randy thrown over his shoulder.

Here he stood and suddenly he was nervous. Like never before in his entire life. His jaw-muscles twitched as he stared at the white door, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. And then Phil's words echoed in his mind…

_John… you're falling for him and he's not going to return your feelings … Yeah, maybe I'm nuts, Cena. But I saw you that night. I saw your face, your eyes and I heard your voice. There is more. We both know it … I just wonder how you'll handle your crush on Randy when he moves in … _

Even if John would have wanted to move that moment… there was no chance his body would have obeyed his order. He had no idea why, all of a sudden, he was such a nervous wreck and why, out of all fucking possible moments, Phil's words had to come back to him _now_. Just like that…

_I don't have a crush on him._

His own words… shallow and… as true as they untrue. In a way. And somehow it seemed that it had taken Phil only a glimpse on John to notice it…

_I still try to figure out what's driving you when it comes to Randy._ _Since you claim to NOT have a crush on him … D__o you really, and I mean really, think that it's worth it?_

This man was much too good at _feeling_ things.

_I think it's damn worth it. He's worth it._

John blinked a few times, swallowing hard. He'd said those words not long ago and… they were true. Every single word. He'd meant every single word...

Someone bumped against his shoulder and startled him out of his thoughts. He shook his head a little, as if he could shake his thoughts off and in a way it worked. But the nervousness stayed. This was absurd. This was Randy in the room and if he had to be nervous about something, than it was that Randy might have changed his mind.

"No, he has _not_ changed his mind…" he reassured himself and knocked at the door.

There was no answer and he guessed that Randy was asleep. Opening the door as quietly as possible, he slipped into the room, walked over to the bed and sat the coffee and the sandwich on the bed-stand and the bag on the chair beside the bed, before he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed.

Randy _was_ still asleep and John's eyes roamed his face. The cuts, scratches and bruises were fading and in a few days they would be completely gone. Well, except for the gash on his forehead that was still covered with a bandage. His expression was smooth, peaceful. He'd seen his face so often before, but he never had taken a closer look. And yes, John had to admit… Randy was a handsome man. For a few minutes, all John did was watch him sleep and listen to the soft and even breathing, wondering why he had been so nervous before. Now, that he sat here, he felt calm…

"Do I have something stuck to my face?" a sleepy voice mumbled suddenly and for the second time in a few minutes John was startled out of his thoughts.

Slowly Randy turned his head towards him and eyes, as sleepy as his voice, opened, locking their gaze with John's.

"Yeah, well… I just thought that I've never seen you this fluffy before," John replied, smiling softly at him.

Okay, a white lie, but hey, telling Randy that he thought he was handsome wasn't an option. A raised slender eyebrow was his answer.

"Oh, he's trying to be funny," the younger man yawned and tried to prop himself up against the pillows.

A wince told John that this wouldn't work. Not losing a thought about what he was doing, he leaned forward and cautiously slung an arm around Randy's upper body to help him sit up.

"Let me help you," John murmured and after a moment of hesitation, Randy wrapped his good arm around the older man's shoulder.

He lifted the headpiece of the bed a bit, arranged the pillows against the headboard of the bed and helped Randy scoot up a little, until he could sit comfortably. As he let go of the younger man, he heard a quiet _thanks_ murmured close to his ear that made him smile.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed, he noticed the way Randy looked at him. Wary in a way, surprised. But after a moment Randy's eyes flicked over to the coffee and he squinted at it, as if he tried to figure something out and John had a faint idea what it was. He took a tumbler and handed it over to the younger man, who again squinted at it. And then at John.

"I want the other one," he said, holding his own towards John, whose smile broadened.

Shrugging his shoulders, he did as he was asked and his smile broadened even more, when he heard a disappointed grumble.

"I knew you would want mine, so, yeah, Randy, both decaf," he explained and while Randy started to sip on his unloved decaf coffee, John turned his attention to the bag.

A short while later the mail waited on the bed-stand and toothbrush and toothpaste sat in the bathroom were they belonged. The shaver found a temporary place beside the mail and after the clothes were sorted into the small closet, John turned back to Randy with the picture in his hand.

As the grey eyes fell on it, the younger man froze, an immensely sad expression washing over his face and John felt a painful tug at his heart. Without a word John created some space on the loaded bed stand and placed the frame there.

Watching Randy stare at it he asked quietly: "When was the last time you saw her?"

When there was no reaction, he took the coffee out of the younger man's hand and sat back on the bed, before taking a hold of Randy's hand. Finger's closed around his at the contact.

Randy blinked a few times, blinking back tears that formed in his eyes, before he whispered: "The day I moved out."

Again John felt a painful tug at his heart, knowing that being separated from his little girl for such a long time must be unbearable for Randy. But he was a father and a father had rights, so…?

"Why?" John asked and it was out before he could himself stop from asking such a private question.

"Sam doesn't want me to see her," Randy replied in a hollow but clipped voice, obviously trying to dodge further questions.

"But you have rights, you could…"

"John…" he was interrupted. "Can we please change the subject?"

"Sure. I'm sorry, Randy."

The grey eyes locked gazes with his and although the sad expression was still lingering there, they were soft and something in them asked John to distract him. He was John Cena, he could do it, right? Right. The question was… how?

His eyes fell on the shaver. Sighing silently, he tried to pull up a sunny smile to upgrade the poor distraction that was on his mind. The smile he managed wasn't as sunny as he wanted it to be, but it would do.

"How about I free you from the fur that grows in your face, fluffy?" he suggested and grabbed the shaver.

No, this wasn't a good distraction but Randy played along.

"I warn you, Cena, don't try to be funny. If you cut strange pattern into my beard, I'm gonna punch strange patterns into you face. Got me?" he shot back. "And don't ever call me fluffy again."

"Got it, plushy," John acknowledged and intentionally ignored the smoldering glare that hit him.

Not even ten minutes later the fur was reduced to very short stubble and while John contemplated his work, Randy eyed him and let his good hand brush over his chin, producing a quiet scratching sound.

"Guess we'll try the razor tomorrow," John suggested.

He was graced with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure, Cena. As if I would let you get close to my face with a sharp blade."

John pursed his lips.

"Well, if you want your pretty-boy looks back…" he started and trailed off with a smile on his lips, as Randy's second eyebrow went to visit the first one.

The second Randy opened his mouth to throw a matching remark at him, the door was pushed open and John turned around in surprise, accidently giving pressure onto Randy's broken leg in the process. He jumped off his place as he realized it.

"Sorry, Randy," he apologized guilty for causing the younger man pain. "I didn't want to hurt you."

But Randy only looked at him in question and John frowned.

"Your leg," he said. "I leaned onto it…"

Randy kept looking at him in question a few seconds longer, until something seemed to make click in his head. And then he sighed heavily, nodding ever so slightly. Randy motioned him to sit back down, but the older man did _not_ sit back down. He remained frozen to the spot and faintly registered a nurse and a doctor step up to the bed, but stayed focused on the younger man.

"Randy?"

Again Randy sighed.

"I can't feel my legs, John."

First his brain refused to accept what his ears clearly registered but the expression on the younger man's face and the simple and sober way he spoke those words made it clear that this wasn't a joke. His eyes never leaving Randy, he eventually sat down on the chair, folding his hands to stop an sudden trembling in them.

"What…? Since when?" he stammered, shocked.

Shrugging his good shoulder, Randy replied: "Ever since I woke up."

His voice was so calm and detached that it sent a chill down John's spine. And then he remembered that just a moment ago the doc had come in and he looked up to the white clad man who was silently watching the scene.

"Why?" John asked the medic quietly. "I mean, how did that happen?"

"The broken vertebrae," Randy cut in. "Right, doc?"

The man frowned lightly and his gaze jumped from John to Randy and back to John.

"Yeah," he affirmed slowly.

Swallowing hard, John tightened his grip as the trembling threatened to become stronger.

"Will he… be able to walk again?"

The frown deepened.

"The chances are good but it depends on the healing process and the rehab, so we'll have to wait and see," the doctor replied, starting to prepare bandages. "Now, sir, if you please wait outside for a few minutes?"

With a glance at Randy, who looked right back at him with a strangely neutral yet careful expression, he eventually got up and left the room, accompanied by a bad feeling coiling up in the pit of his stomach and a cold grip around his heart. He walked over to the lonely chair close to the room, that lonely chair he'd already been sitting on a few days ago.

Bracing his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. A low groan fell from his lips as he fought back a wave of sickness. Randy couldn't move his legs… And if that wasn't enough shit for one day, there had been that frown on the doctor's face. He kept sitting like this for minutes, until he heard the door open up.

The doctor stepped out of the room, talking to the nurse who walked out right behind him. John jumped up from the chair and with a few quick strides he was at the medic's side, patiently waiting until he'd given his instructions to the nurse, before seeking his attention.

"Uhm, do you have a few minutes?" he asked as the doctor turned around to him. "I've got some more questions."

The man gazed at his watch and nodded, before he signaled John to follow him as he started to walk down the corridor. Falling into step with the medic, John tried to push the uneasy feeling aside. After a few meters they stopped at a door with a private-sign on it and the doctor motioned John to go in. It was a neutral room, maybe some kind of a conference-room with a table and a few chairs. Behind him the door closed quietly and he turned around.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Cena?"

For a moment John studied the man's face and eyes and yes, he was sure that there was something the doc hadn't told him. He scratched his temple and frowned. He was still noted as Randy's next of kin and normally he would be such an ass to play that card, but right know this uneasy feeling in his stomach made him forget his boy scout-attitudes. And he hoped that the medic wouldn't insist on the medical confidentiality.

"You know, I wonder… when Randy said the paraplegia results from the accident, you hesitated before you affirmed it," he asked then. "And I don't know why, but I've got the feeling that there is something else. So could you please tell me the truth?"

While saying that he saw a flicker in the doctor's eyes and he knew he had been right. There was more. And the way the man paled a bit, though he held John's gaze, fed the uneasy feeling. The man sighed and sat on the edge of the table, staring at some invisible point on the floor for a minute or two and John kept quiet, waiting for him to speak.

Eventually looking back up to John, he said: "As a matter of fact, the paraplegia does not result from the accident. The broken vertebrae did not damage the spinal marrow. But during the emergency surgery we found a tumor."

The words hit home like a sledgehammer. A wave of dizziness rolled through John, leaving sickness behind. His heart missed a beat.

"A tumor?" John whispered, shocked.

The doctor nodded and continued to explain: "Yeah, very close to the spinal marrow of the lumbar region. That kind of tumors trigger paraplegia sooner or later through pressure on the marrow."

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he took a shaky breath and asked: "Why haven't you told me that when I asked you the first time about his state of health?"

"Please understand, Mr. Cena, we had our reasons…"

"Oh, great, you had your reasons! "Now that's an explanation…!" he interrupted him harshly. "Can't it be removed in a surgery?"

The man in front of frowned deeply.

"The tumor _has_ _been_ removed in the emergency operation. The tumor was so close to the spine trauma that the surgeon removed it. He can speak of luck…"

"Speak of _luck_?! He can't move his legs, dammit!" John snapped and held up a hand a second later. "I'm sorry, doc. I didn't want to…"

The man waved it off and nodded. "It's okay. What I meant was he can speak of luck because the tumor was benign and the marrow didn't suffer a major defect. The nerve damage due to the excision of the tumor tissue is so marginal that the nerves will recover over the time."

John exhaled audibly and asked: "Means he'll be able to walk again?"

"The paraplegia is the minor problem." The doctor paused and sighed. "There's a good chance that he'll be able to walk again like nothing ever happened but it will take time… time he probably doesn't have."

It was the choice of words that made his heart skip a few beats. Fear coiled up in his belly…

"How am I supposed to understand that?" he asked slowly, scared of what answer would come.

"Sir… I'm telling you this despite the explicit order of Mr. Orton to keep this information a secret…" the man started and paused then, as if he was debating with himself if he should continue.

But he did…

"A few months ago Mr. Orton came here because of a very painful and lasting headache and we made a CT-scan of his head. Unfortunately… we found two tumors. One in the occipital lobe, the visual center of the brain and the second in the motor cortex, which is the part of the brain that controls arbitrary movements," the doctor explained, the whole time keeping his eyes fixed on John. "We wanted to take a biopsy first hand, but he refused the treatment. There is a chance that it's malignant tissue. If we knew if it is or not, we could decide if a chemotherapy or a surgery would be the better option. Undergoing a surgery would mean that he could suffer a permanent damage, even if the tumors can be removed. Anyway, he refuses a surgery as well as a chemo."

John stared at the doctor for a second or two and tried to process the information. It took a few moments to sink in, but the seconds it did, John felt his world shatter.

"What… will happen if he won't undergo a therapy?" John choked, fighting down the urge to throw up.

"Blackouts and memory losses in the beginning. There is a chance that he will lose sight, his ability to do the movements he wants to do, to the point of an absolute paralysis. During the further progress he will suffer of failures of the nervous system. Seizures. Organic failures are possible, too. Without a treatment the tumors are going to be lethal, sooner or later. Even if they're benign. They'll grow, maybe not as fast as if they were malignant, but they will and the pressure on the brain…"

John's body went numb and he turned away from the medic, sitting down on a chair the very second his knees gave out. His mind faded the voice of the man out, refusing to hear even one more word. Something deep inside him shattered… And with a low groan he leaned forward and began to retch.

Distantly he noticed the doctor who kneeled down beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder, talking to him. Asking him if he was okay. No, he wasn't okay. He was far from okay and he wasn't sure if he would ever be okay again.

_Randy would die._


	7. Chapter 7

Yup, I'm on a roll. Another part for you, guys, because I love you ;D

Bluestar711: Thx and maybe this chapter answers some of your questions.

jenimik: It is, isn't it? D:

vampqueen440: Thx! When will the first part be up? I'm curious :-)

BrightAsNight: I'm a bad girl, I know… :3

Alonia187: Thx ;3 Glad you liked it and hey, I even managed to update soon ;D And no, nothing annoying about your advice. And since I have no interest in being kicked out, I changed the rating.

Guest: Not finished, it just started. And thx, too :-)

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Hot tears spilled from his eyes and he heard himself tell the doctor to leave him alone. And a second time when the man insisted to stay. Then he saw a nod from the corner of his eye and a moment later he saw him leave. The door closed with a somehow foreboding thud.

Quietness fell over the room and in that quietness it seemed that the echoes of his own thoughts came back to him.

_Randy would die. He would die._

Sitting there, numb yet filled with screaming pain, he tried to wake up from this nightmare… Moments passed by… endless, painful moments… And when John eventually managed to get up from the chair, he had no idea how long he'd been sitting in the little room. Ten minutes? Twenty? To him it felt like an eternity, yet too soon to go back to the younger man. Anger, grief, despair, they were only broken bits… he had no words for what he felt.

Slowly he got up from the chair and left the room. His feet found their way to Randy's room on their own, carrying him ever so slowly but steadily further and further through the corridor until he reached the door he right now didn't want to pass. He simply wasn't sure if he had the strength to get through this. His heart raced, pounded heavily, painfully against his chest and stole his breath away. Closing his eyes for a brief moment he tried to gather at least a bit of self-control and with trembling hands he pushed the door open and stepped in.

Hesitantly he walked towards the table, avoiding Randy's gaze. He didn't want the younger man to see that he'd been crying. He sat down, folding his hands and tried to calm his heart down and to muster the strength to keep his voice steady.

"Where have you been?" Randy asked quietly, but John kept his eyes on his folded hands. "John?"

"Why..." John started, but his voice failed him and he had to clear his throat. "Why do you want to die?"

The question hung heavy in the sudden silence of the room and John didn't need to look up. He _felt_ Randy's piercing eyes on him.

"What the hell do you mean?" Randy asked, but his voice sounded strained and betrayed the younger man, telling John that Randy _exactly_ knew what he meant.

Bracing his elbows on the table, John buried his face in his hands and tried to take a breath he did not have to bite back the tears that threatened to fall again. John wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't pass his lips. Silence fell again for a minute or two before he finally managed to speak.

"The tumors, Randy," he whispered pained and at his words he heard the younger man's breathing become harsher.

"That's none of your business, Cena," Randy snapped suddenly.

Still not looking up, the older man replied quietly: "That's where you're wrong, Randy. You made it my business the second you let me in."

He heard Randy take a deep breath but he kept quiet otherwise.

"You're going _die_ without a treatment and you know that. So _why_, Randy?" John asked and again his voice broke.

"I don't want to be a living vegetable, John!" the younger man hissed. "I'd rather die than end up like that!"

John jumped up from his chair as if it had burned him and with a few quick strides he was at the bedside, leaning close to Randy, his eyes burning with emotions.

"And _I_ didn't pull you out of that damn wreck and saved your ass to watch you _die_ _now_!" John shouted, not angry but full of despair.

Randy held his gaze, his face a careful blank mask.

"Maybe I would have been better if I'd died in that damn car…" Randy stated bitterly.

The way he said those words… so cold, resigned… it tore John apart and he had to sit down on the bed when he felt his knees go weak. Burying his face in his hands, he tried hard to breathe and hold back the tears that came back, tried to bite back a sob. But it escaped his lips. A single, wailing sound.

Avoiding to look at what he'd caused, Randy closed his eyes. His own eyes burned suspiciously. He hadn't intended to hurt John, but he'd been serious with what he'd said. And he still did not understand why John cared so much.

When he opened his eyes again he saw John look up to him, his eyes reddened. There were tears running down the older man's cheeks and Randy wanted to reach out to wipe them away, wanted to comfort him, but he didn't. Slowly it dawned on him that he started to _care for_ _John_, more than he ever again wanted to care about someone else… and it scared him…

"No one would care if I died or not," he whispered, the blank mask wavering. "So why the hell do _you_ care?"

"Don't you get it? I care because I _know_ that _you_ _are_ _worth_ all the trouble it takes to get closer to you," John whispered back because he didn't trust his voice not to break, willing all his feelings into those words to make Randy _finally_ and _really_ understand that he was serious. "I saw _you_ back then. The real, amiable Randy and I like him, very much. I know he's still there, because in the past two days I saw him here…" John reached out, letting his hand hover over Randy's heart. "And I'm willed to take every damn insult, every damn offending word you want to throw at me, every shiner... I… I'm willed to do anything... just... _don't die_."

His words had been barely audible, but he could see in Randy's eyes that he'd heard them and that he finally really got through to him. The mask fell. For once those grey eyes weren't guarded while they watched him. They were wide open and vulnerable, revealing depths that spoke of disappointment in the past, loneliness, sadness and… hope? In that very second John saw… _felt_ the remains of the well-built walls around the younger man's heart finally crumble.

"_You are not alone_. I'm gonna be at your side if you let me, Randy," he promised and it was a promise he would keep, at all costs.

Randy gazed out of the window, his eyes distant.

"They all promised to stay at my side and in the end I was on my own..." he choked. "I don't want an agonizing chemo and I don't want a surgery. My parents, Sam… they all left me because they couldn't accept that…"

A single tear rolled down the younger man's cheek and without losing a thought about it, John wiped it away with the gentlest of touches. The grey eyes closed when his fingers brushed over Randy's cheek. For the first time Randy didn't only tolerate his touch… he seemed to welcome it and John felt a warm feeling grow in his chest despite Randy's bitter words.

He couldn't accept this decision either and he was determined to make Randy fight for his life… but in the end he would stand by him, no matter which way he would choose. He had to be strong for both of them. Cupping the younger man's face with his hands, he made him look at him again.

"I don't want you to die, Randy," he whispered, "but I'm not them. I'm not gonna let you down, whatever comes. _I'm not gonna let you down._"

Carefully he crawled onto the bed and settled beside Randy, wrapping his arms around the younger man. He wanted to hold him as close as possible, wanted to pull him out of his own personal hell and shield him from everything that could harm him. Randy turned his face into the broad chest, holding onto John for dear life… and broke down in silent sobs. John rested his cheek against the short hair, mumbling soothing words.

And while he held Randy, a realization found him and he closed his eyes, trying hard to shut it out. But he failed and with every single beat of his heart it felt like it was being ripped out…

x

The night was as dark as it could be while John walked up the stairs to Phil's house. The bottle of Southern Comfort he'd emptied during his taxis drive sat accusingly on top of the trash can beside the house. The alcohol didn't have the effect John had hoped it would have. It didn't numb the pain a bit. Ever since the doctor had revealed him the truth the pain threatened to devour him.

Randy had cried in his arms for more than an hour, clinging to him before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep. Even then John had kept holding him tight until a nurse told him that it was time to go. And when he finally left, it felt like he was letting Randy down. Like the younger man's life was slipping through John's fingers.

With a breathless sob John leaned against the frame of the massive front door and hesitantly he knocked, the dull sound disturbing the quietness of the night. Only a moment later he heard steps and then door was opened by a frowning Phil.

"Sunshine? What are you doing here at such a godless hour?" he asked slowly.

John walked in, like a zombie. Phil closed the door and turned around to him just to see him collapse to the floor, sitting there, hunched over. With two quick strides he was at John's side but John didn't react. Only when gentle hands cupped his face he looked up, though he didn't even realize the touch. His eyes were distant, dazed.

"John… good God, what happened?"

And John began to tremble ever so slightly, his breath hitching. His eyes drifted away from Phil's, becoming more and more distant.

"John?" Phil whispered, worried like he'd never been before in his entire life. "Hey, look at me…"

Those blue eyes, wide, pained, empty, locked with his.

"Talk to me," Phil urged to finally tell him what was wrong, letting his hands slip a little further down. "Come on, you're really scaring me…"

This time John felt a light touch… on his neck. Phil's hands… and his thumbs were tenderly brushing over the skin there. His first impulse was to jerk away from the touch. His second was to lay his own hands on Phil's and hold them there. Warmth and a feeling of safeness radiated from the touch. It was the first kind of real comfort he felt in… in a very long time.

"What happened?" the younger man asked. "Is something wrong with Randy?"

Again a sob escaped John's lips and Phil knew he was right. His brows furrowed in grief as he searched John's face. He knew the older man wouldn't tell him what was wrong. At least not now.

For a heartbeat John closed his eyes, whispering: "I love him…"

Words like these were supposed to warm a heart, to lighten up a life, to heal, to save… to be the purest of joy. Words like these shouldn't be filled with so much despair, pain, guilt and fear, the way they sounded the very moment they had left John's lips. Admitting your feelings for someone shouldn't be like that…

"I know," Phil said, gently wiping away the tears that ran down John's cheeks.

"Phil, I don't know how to carry on…" John whispered again, his voice cracking, failing him.

"Just be there for him," the younger man replied and he scooted closer to John, pulling him into a tender embrace.

"I'm not sure anymore if I am strong enough…"

The words sounded so hollow, so lost, that Phil had to blink back tears, which suddenly stung in his eyes.

"You _are_ strong enough, John. You are probably the strongest person I've ever met. Look at all the shit you already went through. If there's someone who can do this, it's you," Phil said softly, resting his cheek against the older man's temple. "He can count himself lucky that you are at his side. I would. And you are not alone, John. I'm there for you, okay?"

Maybe the alcohol finally kicked in the way it was supposed to, maybe his body started to shut down… or maybe it was because of Phil's words… but for the first time since he'd left the hospital the pain seemed to lessen a bit. He watched as his friend took one of his hands, got up and urged him to get up, too. He did, coming to stand on shaky legs and without giving the slightest resistance, he let himself being pulled over to the living-room and to the couch, where Phil signaled him to sit down.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

Nodding slowly, he watched Phil leave and then he heard busy sounds coming from the next room. A short while later the younger man came back in, wearing boxers and a shirt. He carried a blanket and a pillow.

"You can have the bed," Phil said, throwing the bedding on the couch. "I'm staying here on the couch."

"No, your couch is comfy," John murmured, his eyes fixed on Phil who stood waiting in front of him. "Gonna stay here. I don't think that I can sleep anyway."

"No way, John. I bet if you close your eyes you'll be asleep in a second. You're drunk as a newt and you gotta sleep that off. In a bed, not on a couch. Period," Phil replied decidedly and held out a hand to help John up, whose eyes snapped to the hand.

After a moment John let his gaze wander from Phil's hand to his face. Tilting his head a little to the side as he searched his friend's face, making Phil frown in confusion. Again he wondered why was it that he'd never before noticed that Phil was such a good friend? What a loss…

Phil was about to ask what was wrong, when John reached out to take his hand. But instead of pulling John up he found himself being pulled down with an unexpected and forceful tug from John, ending up lying half on top of him, their noses almost touching.

"I'm staying on your couch," John said quietly. "Period."

"Uhm… okay," Phil gave in, too surprised to do otherwise.

Too surprised and too close to John…

It was the way Phil's voice sounded, a little breathless, a little shaken, that made John pause. His eyes roamed the other man's face, stopped at his eyes. They were widened a little and of an interesting color. Green? And brown… Suddenly he felt very aware of the warmth radiating from Phil, who was still laying half on top of him. An inviting, comforting warmth… His eyes flicked to the lip-piercing. That ring… it glistened in the dim light, asking for attention.

And when Phil eventually tried to get off of him, John didn't let him, kept holding the other man's hand in a vice-grip.

He would just need to lean forward a little to close the gap… no one would ever know about it… He would find out how it felt to kiss a man. It was so damn tempting… Phil was so damn tempting… the way he cared… the fact that he was there for him, anytime… the unconditional friendship he provided…

… _or more?_

Why not? He felt more for Randy than he should and he couldn't stop the feelings he was developing for the younger man. Feelings which would forever be one-sided. It wasn't even cheating… Was it wrong to crave a little comfort? Did it make a difference? He was screwed anyway.

Phil shifted against him, placed his free hand on John's chest and John's own free arm wrapped around Phil's waist to stop him from bringing more space between them. After a moment Phil stopped pushing away from him and hesitantly settled against him. He would never hold Randy the way he held Phil this very moment…

"I'm not gay," John whispered, more to himself than to Phil.

"I know," Phil whispered back nevertheless.

When John finally let go of Phil's hand, he buried his fingers in Phil's shirt and closed his eyes when the other man's hands found their way back to the spots on his neck where they had been minutes before. He felt tender fingers brush the skin there and he couldn't help but pull the body in his arms closer and when he opened his eyes again he looked straight into Phil's, those open depths drawing him in…

He didn't know who kissed whom first. A gentle touch of soft lips… leaving a wonderful tingle in its wake… A low hum escaped his throat and he felt Phil smile against his lips. He found himself wanting more and he pulled the man in his arms even closer, onto his lap, letting his hands crawl under the shirt where they found surprisingly soft skin. Fingertips brushed over that tempting skin, mapping the muscled back, eliciting a gasp from Phil and John used the chance to deepen the kiss.

It felt good… so very good… Offending shirts were disposed and then Phil started to kiss his way down to his jaw, to his neck, nipping and biting and then he found _that_ spot under his ear, sending jolts straight to Johns groin, making his dick stir.

_Not enough…_

Without a warning he rolled over until Phil was lying under him and he kissed him hard, while his hands roamed the body underneath him, drawing out little moans and gasps from the other man. And then John pressed his hips down, feeling a matching hardness that made him lightheaded…

"Stop," Phil panted suddenly. "Stop…"

John didn't want this to stop and he claimed the other man's mouth again, but then he felt himself being pushed away.

"John, stop."

Closing his eyes he tried to calm down. The room was filled with their heavy breathing and for a while neither of them moved. After cooling down a little he opened his eyes again, searching Phil's. They seemed almost completely black due to the dilated pupils, his face was flushed and he was trembling a little.

"Why?" John rasped.

"Because you're going to regret this tomorrow…"

"No, I'm not," he growled and leaned down.

"Yes, you are," Phil said breathless, pushing him back up. "You are, believe me."

John exhaled audibly and Phil gave him a rueful smile, framing his face with his hands.

"John, under different circumstances I would be a very happy man right now. I like you, very, _very_ much and that's why I can't let this happen. You are drunk and I don't know what happened today, but _this_ isn't a solution."

John closed his eyes and whispered: "But I want this."

"No, no. Open your eyes and look at me," Phil commanded and John obeyed. "You tell me that tomorrow when you're sober and I'll have you flat on your back in a blink. Okay?"

"No…" John whispered again. "Please, I need this… I…"

Phil shook his head.

"No, John," he cut him off. "_This_ is not what you need. It's going to make everything worse. You love Randy and you're going to hate yourself tomorrow if we don't stop right now."

John remained where he was and when Phil began to crawl out from under him he held him back, casting his eyes down.

"Can you… stay here? Please, I don't want to be alone right now. I promise not to try anything."

Phil brushed his hands through his face. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea… but couldn't let him stay alone down here to cope with his feelings, could he? No, he couldn't…

"Sure…" he murmured, lay back down and smiled when John settled beside him, with his head on Phil's shoulder and an arm wrapping around his waist. "I'm not gonna go anywhere."

He pulled the blanket up and almost missed the whispered _thanks_ from John.

"Sleep," he replied quietly and let his fingers brush over John's arm.

The soft caress calmed him, yet it gave the events of the day the chance to invade his mind again and the pain flared up to its full force. Randy would die… Searing it cut through him, making his whole body go numb, yet it burned, white hot and devouring.

"It'll be alright, Sunshine," Phil whispered and breathed a kiss on John's forehead. "You're not alone."

With that Phil turned a little towards John to pull him even closer, entangling their legs and tucking John's head under his chin. Damp warmth on his shoulder told him that John had started to cry again, silently, and seeing a man like John being so devastated, seeing him cry and so lost, was crushing.

"_Phil_…"

The name left John's lips as a shaky breath and he held onto him for dear life, trying to hide from reality and as Phil started to whisper comforting words to him, he tried to wrap them around himself like a shield. But reality knew where he was and it stayed at his side until sleep found him eventually…


	8. Chapter 8

Here we go, the next part. Freshly baked for you :D

And, YAY, thanks for the reviews!

BrightAsNight: We love Phil for being Phil, don't we? *sighs*

vampqueen440: Thank you so much :D

Alonia187: Yeah, poor John… And, well, about Randy and a treatment… John has a plan and I guess you'll like it ;3

Bluestar711: Thaaanks :-) And I guess you'll love even more what's about to come :3

leoxrko: Thank you!

Guest: Oh, now I got it ;-) Sometimes I'm a bit slow on the uptake O.o

Vindictive John Dark Fantasy: Triangles are always… interesting, aren't they? But, well, you'll have to wait a bit for the rest ;D

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Rising from a peaceful darkness, he slowly drifted towards consciousness. And with the consciousness came a massive pounding in his head. John groaned weakly and turned his face further into the softness that was pressed against the side of his face. Soothing warmth, laced with a familiar scent engulfed him.

It hadn't been a bad dream. He knew it, because the pain was still there, threatening to tear him apart.

_Randy…_

His throat began to burn, just as his eyes and he started to weep quietly, but there were no more tears left. A sob escaped his lips…

"Ssh, Sunshine…" a gentle voice whispered.

Soft fingers brushed over his back, soothing, offering comforting touches.

"Phil… It hurts so much…" he whispered back, shaky and full of desperation.

A kiss was breathed to the top of his head and Phil's arms pulled him closer.

"I know. It'll be alright."

Another kiss and the fingers continued to brush over his back, over his shoulder to his nape and back and John wrapped his own arms around the younger man's waist. He was grateful that Phil didn't ask what had happened, although he wished he could just tell him everything. John knew that Phil was there for him, he'd proved it already more than enough… yet he felt so very alone, because he had to keep it to himself…

_Randy…_

The pain flared up, consuming him. Just as he finally had found his way into Randy's stronghold, the younger man threatened to slip through his fingers and in the midst of it all he had to realize that he loved him. He loved Randy…

A broken sob tore from his throat and he tightened his hold on the body in his arms in the bare need of something to shield away the painful reality. But ever since the truth had been revealed to him, reality stayed at his side and refused to give him even one minute of peace.

_Randy…_

Not really wanting to let go of Phil, he eventually pushed himself into a sitting position, slipping out of the younger man's embrace, and caught a glimpse on the clock, before he sank back down into Phil's waiting arms with a low groan as his head threatened to explode. The clock told him that it was already 11 a.m. and he'd promised Randy to drop by around lunch-time.

"I gotta go to Randy," he groaned, pushing the pain in his head and the pain in his heart aside with all the strength he had left.

"Yeah, sure. You can't even sit," Phil huffed, holding him back when he tried to sit up again. "Stay down before your head falls off."

"No," John mumbled weakly. "No, I promised to bring him his sandwich and coffee…"

"No, Sunshine, what you need is some more sleep. He's not gonna die if he has to wait for you a little longer."

Phil's words gave John a sting to the heart and the younger man didn't miss the way John cringed. He frowned, but he didn't ask for the reason. Then he sighed, because he knew he'd probably regret his next words.

"Would you feel better if I go and make sure he gets his sandwich and coffee and tell him that you'll visit him later?"

Blinking slowly, John looked up to Phil and was greeted by questioning eyes. Yeah, he would feel better but he was aware that it probably wasn't a good idea. Phil didn't like Randy and Randy didn't like Phil and after all that Phil had done for him, he didn't want to burden him with going there.

"No. No, I'm going. I know you and Randy are not quite friends and I…"

"Sunshine," the younger man cut him off softly. "Would you feel better or not?"

John gazed at him for a moment, before he closed his eyes and breathed: "Yeah, I would feel better."

A moment later John felt Phil scoot out of his arms and then the couch dipped a bit. When he opened his eyes he found him sitting on the edge of the cushion, looking down on him, worry written all over his face and John felt bad for being the cause of it.

"Thanks, Phil."

Nodding lightly, the younger man leaned down to him and breathed a kiss to his temple.

"It's okay, Sunshine. Sleep now," Phil whispered against his temple, before he got up and left the living-room.

John closed his eyes again and listened to the hushed sounds coming from the adjoining room and those sounds lulled him and while he drifted back to sleep, Phil's scent enwrapped him and in his mind his voice echoed, telling him that it would be alright…

x

Resting his head comfortably against a thick pillow, he looked out of the window. It was sunny outside, and although the view could have been a better one, the bright rays that fell through the glass lightened his mood a little. Outside his room there was bustling activity and by the sounds of it, it had to be around lunch-time. What meant that John would drop in soon. He snorted. He'd tried so hard to keep everyone, including John, away and still John had managed to get through to him. And not only that, no. Only two days and he'd managed to make him look forward to his visits. And… to tell the truth, this was an understatement. Two days… That man was simply unbelievable.

The morning seemed to last forever while he waited for him. He'd never lost a thought about that John probably wouldn't come back. He'd promised to be at his side. This was John Cena. John, who would never break a promise. But after what had happened yesterday he was nervous and even a little bit scared. It was an awkward situation.

Over the past weeks and months Randy had accepted his fate more or less and the only reason he'd tried to keep everyone away had been that he didn't want leave someone behind who would have to suffer because of his death. And… he didn't want to get hurt again by _being_ left alone…

But John's reaction, his words… his promise to be at his side, no matter what… it had left him shaken to the core, this offer of an unconditional friendship and for the first time since he had left his wife and his daughter, he'd cried freely. Although he still couldn't understand why John would chose to do this to himself… try to be his friend and walk this way with him only to see him… to see him go in the end… He wanted to believe him and he wanted John at his side. What he didn't want was to see John suffer. But it would be inevitable if John held his promise.

"God, why has this to be so hard," Randy murmured, closing his eyes.

A sigh fell from his lips. He still felt John's arms, holding him close. Randy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so safe and… loved. Randy's finger clenched into his blanket as he thought about the strange feeling he'd had when he woke up this morning and John wasn't there. It had felt like there was missing something very important. And then, sitting in his bed after just waking up from a dreamless but sheltered sleep, after such a disastrous day like yesterday, he realized that John filled a void in his life that he hadn't even noticed being there.

When he heard a knock at the door his eyes snapped open and a small smile grew on his face.

"Come in," he called.

The door jumped open and… His smile dropped when Punk entered the room.

"Brooks?"

"Orton."

This wasn't the kind of surprise Randy liked and he had no intention making a secret of it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Phil dropped down on the chair beside the bed and waved with a bag, while putting a tumbler on the bed stand.

"John isn't feeling very well and he asked me to bring you your sandwich, a coffee, and yes, it's decaf, and tell you that he's gonna drop in later," Phil explained and put the bag on the side table beside the tumbler.

Randy eyed Phil suspiciously. John, crashing on Punk's couch? Why would he go to Punk and why the hell would he ask him to play delivery boy? A heavy knot of worry built up in the pit of his stomach. After John's reaction yesterday it wasn't a surprise that John didn't feel good today, but nevertheless… And again, why Punk?

"Why would he ask you of all people?" Randy snapped, focusing back on the man beside his bed..

"Maybe because we are friends," Phil replied drily.

"Friends? You and John? Sure, Brooks. "

"Yeah. Yeah, friends. Oh… I'm sorry. Right, it's a concept you're probably not familiar with," Phil remarked sarcastically. "Friends are people who care about each other. Maybe you've heard about that somewhere along the way?"

"Stop being a smartass, Brooks," Randy snapped again and tried to lean forward but he regretted it instantly when a hot wave of pain rolled through him.

He groaned and leaned back, his good arm wrapped around his chest, asking a little breathless: "What's wrong with John?"

"Ooooh, so you _are_ familiar with…"

"Stop that, _Punk_, and fucking tell me what's wrong with John!" he growled and it worked.

Phil shut his mouth and pursed his lips, before answering: "A nasty hangover. I found him at my door in the middle of the night and he was down and drunk like a sailor. He needed someone to talk."

To talk? Randy blinked and straightened up a little. Could that be? He did a leap of faith and opened up to John, wanted to trust him and John… He couldn't believe that John would go and tell Punk everything. His face darkened.

"No need to be upset, Orton," Phil continued. "He never lost a word about what happened between the two of you yesterday. Okay? Not a single word. Listen, he was completely devastated and just wanted some company. He shot himself into oblivion and crashed on my couch. Randy… Whatever this is between the two of you… If you're not serious about it, stop it."

He chewed on his lip-ring while his eyes stayed fixed on the other man, wondering how Randy would react if he knew about the little encounter on the couch.

"What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean with _it_?"

"I don't know. You name it. Friendship? Something else? It doesn't make a difference how you want to call it. Important is that you're not playing with him. He doesn't deserve that. As I said, he is my friend and I swear I'm gonna make your life a hell if you hurt him."

_Sure, Brooks, as if my life could be more of a hell than it already is_, Randy thought bitterly, returning Phil's look with a hard glare.

"I don't think that I need to explain myself to you, _Punk_," replied coldly. And then, out of the blue came a feeling that there was more behind Phil's words and with a wary expression on his face, he asked: "Are you jealous?"

Phil cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a bit at the question.

"Are you?"

Both questions remained unanswered. And then Phil puffed a mirthless laughter and made Randy frown with it.

"This is plain silly, isn't it?" Punk huffed and brushed his hands through his face. "What are we doing here? We are both friends with John, so we should try to get along somehow, don't you think?"

Randy's brows furrowed while he pondered over Phil's words. He had no further interest in spending time with Punk, but he had a point there. John obviously liked him, what meant that they possibly would meet every once in a while. At least as long as he was still… around. He owed it to John.

"Yeah, maybe," Randy agreed reluctantly and after another moment of silence he added quietly: "Look, I… I'm not playing with him, okay?"

For once the subtle and always present sarcasm on Phil's face vanished at Randy's words and the way his voice had sounded and he nodded softly.

"Good. I'll take you up on that."

Phil got up from the chair and walked over to the door to leave the room, but then he stopped half-way out as a certain thought popped up in his mind and turned around with a thoughtful expression.

"Listen, uhm… I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I know that John won't say a word, so…" he said quietly, chewing on his lip-piercing. "He quit his job."

It took Randy a few seconds until the statement sank in and his brows furrowed in confusion.

Slowly he asked: "Why would he do that?"

Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head, before he answered: "Yeah, Randal, why the hell would he do something like that? You don't really expect me to explain his actions, do you? I'm going now. Use the time and think about it. Maybe you'll find an answer to that before he drops in and spends his time with you. Like he did the past days. Or like he will do in the future, hour for hour. Not to speak of the time he invests in taking care of the things you can't do. Bing-bing-bing?"

With that he left the room and Randy with an even more confused expression behind. One furrowed brow arched up.

_John has quit his job? Why the hell… why would he do that? His job is his life…_ Randy wondered, turning Phil's statement back and forth in his mind.

"Bing-bing-bing?" he muttered.

… _and spends his time with you. Like he did the past days. Or like he will do in the future, hour for hour…_

Time. A lot of time.

_Too much time… _he thought slowly and a moment later it dawned on him. _No. Not really. He didn't do that because of…_

"… me?" he said aloud in surprised realization.

Because of him. John had quit because him. Randy groaned. Then he sighed. And then he shook his head slowly.

Closing his eyes he leaned his head back and muttered: "Dammit, John…"

While his mind still tried to process the fact that John had really done this, _things_ ascended like bubbles. All those moments when John tried to talk to him, although he pushed him away. He came back, even after the shiner… That he'd risked his life… Their little water-incident, the insults he'd taken. Taking care of his things, offering him to move in. To stay at his side whatever would happen. And now he quit his job.

"Damn idiot!" he hissed, not in anger but in worry.

John was about to quit his whole life for Randy's sake. The younger man groaned again as bitter guilt rose and with it came a nagging question: what had he done to deserve John's devotion? He couldn't name it anything else.

_You are not alone. I'm gonna be at your side if you let me, Randy… I'm not gonna let you down, whatever comes. I'm not gonna let you down… I care because I know that you are worth all the trouble it takes to get closer to you… I'm willed to do anything... just... don't die…_

John's words echoed in his mind. He wasn't alone anymore and that thought was comforting yet it scared him at the same time.

"John…"

He breathed the name into the quietness of his room. First those fucking tumors had turned his world upside down and it happened again when his family let him down. And now there was John and again his world was being turned upside down… Within two days the older man had made Randy care again for someone… for him. Made him worry.

"Fuck."

Now there was someone in his life again who he would leave behind. Exactly what he'd wanted to avoid.

His gaze fell on the cell John had given him and he took it, gingerly running a thumb over the small device. John would never break his promise. So maybe, as much as Randy wanted all the older man had promised him… maybe…

"I absolve you from your promises, John."

For now his words died away in the small room. It was only fair, wasn't it? He would free him from his promises before it was too late.

And afterwards he would be on his own again…

x

The front door opened and with quiet steps Phil made his way to the kitchen and prepared a hangover breakfast - a glass of water and painkillers – and brought it to the couch. John had already been awake for a while the moment the front door opened, but he hadn't been able to get up and his head was killing him. Phil kneeled down in front of the couch and when he saw that John looked at him, he simply returned the look and reached out to brush his fingers through the older man's hair.

John didn't know why, but Phil's touches calmed him, soothed his troubled mind and heart a bit. Touches so full of warmth, full of comfort. Hesitantly he scooted closer to the edge of the couch, until he was close enough to Phil to nuzzle his face against the younger man's chest and in responds Phil breathed a kiss on John's shoulder.

"Hey, Sunshine, how are you feeling?" Phil asked quietly

Another kiss on the older man's shoulder.

"Like shit. My head's pounding like a base drum," John mumbled and Phil gave him an acknowledging hum.

"No surprise," Phil murmured. "You were drunk enough for two. I've got you something for that pretty head of yours. Feel sick?"

"No, it's only the headache."

Very slowly John sat up, screwing his eyes shut as the pounding in his head increased to a point where he was sure his skull would crack any second. But after a few seconds the pounding lessened a bit and when he opened his eyes there was a glass with water hovering in front of him.

"Water and painkillers. And I'm sure we'll find something to eat for you if you feel up to it."

Emptying the glass and hoped his stomach wouldn't suddenly decide to revolt, but thankfully the water stayed down. He sighed heavily as he tried hard to shut out reality for a little longer, but it weighed down on him, crushing, merciless.

Whispering his name, Phil let his hand smooth down the side of John's face and stopped on his neck to linger there and for a few moments John's gaze locked with Phil's… Those eyes that had drawn him in last night, green and brown and open. Honest, caring eyes. And again those eyes drew him in and John leaned forward and placed his lips on the younger man's. But Phil turned his head away.

"Don't…" he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," John replied as quietly. "I thought you… I mean, after last night, I…"

The younger man shook his head lightly.

"When I said I'd be a very happy man under different circumstances, I meant it," he explained softly. "But I also meant it when I said that I like you, very much so. The circumstances are still the same and I can't let you run head first into a big mistake."

Blue eyes searched Phil's face, stopping for a heartbeat at his lips and found their way back to the younger man's eyes. John settled a hand on Phil's chest and buried his fingers in his shirt.

"I'm sober, Phil and I know what I'm doing," John murmured and pulled him slightly closer.

The younger man sighed and rested his forehead against John's and the older man pulled him even closer, while his free arm snaked around Phil's neck.

"Sunshine," Phil whispered, unsure, maybe a little desperate. "Sunshine, don't. You love Randy."

John stilled and the blue eyes slipped close.

"I'm realistic enough to know that he'll never feel the same," he said strained.

Phil heard the words and he heard the words behind them. Hold me. Please make me forget. And maybe it was the wrong decision… that decision his heart had already made the moment he followed the medics to the hospital that fateful night, to sit at John's bed until he woke up and to have his back. It wasn't that he was in love with John, but he couldn't deny that he had a soft spot for him. He knew all too well that John loved Randy and that there was no chance to put a foot in the door and squeeze between John and Randy.

But if John was sure about what he'd said just a few moments ago, why shouldn't he get himself a piece of the older man? John was… John. He was addictive. He was like… like… good chocolate. Once you got the taste, you can't stop. You want more and more and more… And maybe it was a good thing that John had lost his heart to Randy, because if he'd been a free man… Phil sighed. If John had been a free man, Phil would probably have fallen head over heels for him.

Hoping that he wasn't about to do the biggest mistake in his life ever, he closed the gap and kissed the older man… slow and gentle and sweet.

It was some kind of relieve John felt when Phil granted him the kiss, a kiss as warm and full of comfort as his touches were. Somehow Phil managed to make him forget everything, at least for a few precious moments and although he knew that it wasn't fair to Phil, he couldn't help himself but wanted, needed all the younger man offered.

The kiss didn't last long and when it ended John kept holding him close.

"Thank you," he whispered against Phil's lips. "Thank you for being there."

Phil's answer was a smile and a soft kiss on the corner of the older man's mouth, before he drew away from and held a hand out to him.

"It's time to get up, Sunshine. Randy is waiting for you."

John nodded lightly and took Phil's hand. This time he did not pull him down, but when he stood in front of the younger man he pulled him into a tight hug and breathed a kiss on his forehead, before he got himself ready for his visit at the hospital.

He never noticed the deeply worried look in Phil's eyes as the younger as watched him retreat to the bathroom…


	9. Chapter 9

Hi there! This took me a while since my job keeps me VERY busy at the moment… and I just finished this one a moment ago.

So, please don't be miffed if I'm keeping this A/N short, because I'm so tired that I'm about to end up with my face on my keyboard any second *yaaaawns* -.-

Anyway, thanks for your feedback to the last chapter. It's what keeps me doing this! I love you all so much :D

Enjoy!

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It was around 4 p.m. when John finally stood at Randy's door, but instead of going into the room he walked away from it, over to the lonely chair and sat down. Phil had dropped him off at the hospital…

_John sat in Phil's car, staring at the entrance to the building for minutes without being able to get out of the car. The younger was waiting patiently for him to say a word, get out or whatever but when John made no move to do or say anything, Phil took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to call him back to the here and now._

"_He's waiting, Sunshine."_

_John leaned his head back against the head-rest, closing his eyes. His guts cramped at the mere thought what would wait for him. Should he act like nothing ever happened? Should he try to get his sorrows off his chest? Or should he try to talk some sense into Randy, so he would accept a treatment? _

_And he tried to shut out the small voice that asked him: what makes you think that he'll suddenly decide to fight for his life, when not even his family, his little girl had been reason enough for him? Do you really think _you_ can change his mind? By begging him to stay alive?_

"_I know," he whispered. "Huh… I'm afraid to go up there."_

_The deeply worried look was back in Phil's eyes as he wondered what had happened. His mind jumped back to Randy's reaction when he had heard that John had spent the night at his place because he'd needed someone to talk. And especially the way he'd found John at his door and the older man's behavior... on the couch… it fueled his worry. It was so unlike John. Shocking. _

_Not that he didn't like kissing John, or touching him… no, he liked that, very much so. But there were three things that made it hard to ignore that something was very wrong: a) John was straight, so why would he suddenly want to kiss and even consider having sex with a guy and b) okay, here he have an exception, he was in love with Randy, actually and definitely a guy and c) we agree that a and b should be enough reason, but let's add that John was a faithful soul and Phil was sure he would never cheat on the person he loved, not even if he wasn't in a relationship with that very person. Under normal circumstances. So it was pretty obvious that whatever had occurred, it had been severe. _

_Phil lifted John's hand to his mouth and breathed a kiss to the palm._

"_Look, I know you can't tell me what's wrong, but I know, too, that you want nothing more right now than to go up there, no matter if you're afraid or not. And we both know Randy's already waiting for you and believe me, he's counting the minutes. So, just go to him and it'll be alright. Okay?"_

_No. No, it wouldn't be alright but Phil couldn't know that, could he? John turned his head towards Phil and opened his eyes, searching the younger man's face. And again it were those eyes that drew him in, into Phil's very own honest and simple world, in which everything seemed to be so much easier. Eyes that were telling him… about friendship, worry, care, sympathy and affection. This man was one of a kind. Precious. _

"_Someone ever told you that you are an amazing man, Phil Brooks?"_

_There was a small smile shining around the younger man's mouth as John said those words._

"_No, not really, but I could get used to it."_

_John smiled back._

"_Well then, you're an amazing man, Phil Brooks. Thank you for being there for me."_

"_You don't need to thank me all the time, Sunshine."_

"_Yes, I do. I can't thank you enough and…"_

_Phil shook his head and cut him off: "Shush! Now, go."_

_His first impulse had been to give Phil a kiss before leaving… but somehow the thought of kissing him in front of the hospital when he knew Randy was waiting for him… it didn't feel right. Last night, at Phil's place, it hadn't felt like cheating. But… now it did…_

After Phil had shooed him out of the car he went up here, rather slowly, playing for time. And now he was sitting here, still playing for time and feeling guilty beyond words for being so weak to seek comfort in the arms of a another man than the one he loved, for taking advantage of Phil, and it didn't matter that he was a willing participant. And for being too damn gutless to just walk in there.

And, God, it hurt. He would have given everything if someone had told him the whole shit was nothing but a bad, bad dream. But it wasn't. It fucking wasn't.

Wiping his hands down his face he willed himself to get up and walk over to the door, where he breathed deeply and knocked. After a moment he heard a faint _come in_ and opened the door.

Randy sat in his bed, looking up as he entered the room and the second he saw that it was John, his eyes widened and for a moment John was reminded of a puppy. The expression Randy's face showed was happy yet strained. Managing a smile, John walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge.

"Hey," Randy said quietly, still looking at him with his puppy eyes. "I wasn't sure if you would… come back… I mean, Phil said you would, but… after yesterday."

The older man took hold of Randy's hand and squeezed it gently. Funny. It felt like the most normal thing in the world to just do this, take Randy's hand and hold it. To sit at his side, like it had never been any other way.

"I meant every word I said yesterday, Randy," John replied as quietly and without giving it a second thought, he lifted the younger man's hand to his lips and kissed the palm, just like Phil had done not long ago.

A heartbeat later John realized what he'd just done and he tried to put on a reassuring smile to cover his faux pas up. And as the older man looked at Randy, the puppy eyes morphed to worried ones and the strained expression began to overweigh the happiness. And then sadness joined the worry in those grey orbs. He didn't seem to take it as more but a gesture of closer friendship, or maybe he didn't notice it, because there was obviously something else on his mind, distracting him.

Instead of pulling his hand out of John's, his fingers closed around it and he whispered: "I know. And that's why… I want you to go, John."

John froze and stared at him, not believing what he'd just heard. He _refused_ to believe what his ears told him. No way. He shook his head ever so slightly no.

"No Randy. We passed that point two days ago. I'm not going anywhere."

Randy's hold tightened a bit and the grey eyes swept to their joined hands for a brief moment and then back up to John's face, roaming it before they locked again with the by now familiar baby blues.

"And I can't let you do this. I can't let you quit your life just to keep your promises and I don't want to be the reason that you… I don't want you to…" Randy explained but then he fell silent for a moment or two, not knowing how to put in words what he meant.

"Phil told me what… what happened last night," he continued then and John's heart clenched. "He said he found you at his door, drunk and devastated and that you crashed on his couch."

A silent sigh left John's lips. So Phil had kept the rest to himself. For an absurd second he had thought that Phil might have said a word too much…

"I don't want to be the reason that you have to feel like yesterday, John. And we both know that whatever will happen in the future, it'll be even worse. It's not fair to you, but I know that you won't break your promises and that's why I want you to go. It's okay, really. I don't want to leave you behind, when I… have to go..."

And again John stared at him. This was Randy, trying to talk some sense into him when it should be the other way around. _He_ should be trying to talk some sense into _Randy_. And Randy was actually not pulling his asshole attitudes at him and kicking him out, he was worried about John and thus wanted him to leave. Randy was really considering being alone again to make sure John wouldn't have to suffer…?

John had been afraid to come here and he still was afraid, somehow. But the fact that Randy wanted him to go because he cared about him… it bestowed John a warm tingle in his belly, despite the whole situation. And if he'd been determined to make Randy fight for his life before, he was even more determined now…

"John?" Randy asked, squeezing his hand lightly when there was no reaction from the older man.

Scooting a little further up until he sat hip to hip with Randy and while keeping hold his hand, he reached out to lay his free hand on the spot above the younger man's heart and this time it was Randy who stared at him. John tilted his head slightly to the side and searched Randy's face for a few seconds, searched his eyes.

Those eyes spoke to him, telling him to go yet begging him to stay. Not even for one single second John would have considered to go and he wouldn't have been able to do so anyway. He was already in too deep. Way in too deep.

The heart under his hand was beating strong and steady, maybe a little faster than it should, and he concentrated on that very alive rhythm, letting those three words he would never be allowed to say aloud cross his mind.

_I love you…_

"You don't want to leave me behind then, so you leave me behind now… huh…" John murmured, his eyes never leaving Randy's. "No, Randy. I am _not_ going anywhere… I'm not leaving _you_ behind, no matter what happens. We're gonna go this way together."

And then there was something else in Randy's eyes, gleaming between worry and sadness and he sighed: "John, don't…"

But John gave the younger man's hand a gentle tug, stopping whatever words were about to leave his lips.

"You don't really want me to go, do you, Randy?"

It was a question but it was also a plea and Randy averted his eyes, hiding that strange gleam John couldn't quite file.

"No," he breathed. "No, I don't really want you to go. But it would be fair and the right thing to do, John."

While he spoke those words, he looked back up, his eyes glassy and open, flicking back and forth as if he tried to find an answer to an unspoken question and John patiently waited for him to ask it. And after long seconds of hesitation, Randy _did_ ask.

"John… _why_?"

He'd asked the question the day before and John had answered it but he also understood that Randy asked it again, that he couldn't comprehend John's motivation, not even after the older man had told him why. And the three words he couldn't say aloud were back…

_I love you._

"_Because you are worth it_," he replied instead, repeating the words he'd said a day before, willing all his affection he felt for the younger man into those words without revealing the whole truth.

Randy closed his eyes again and rested his head back against the pillow, pulling his hand out of John's to lay it on the one above his heart. All those weeks he'd been more or less strong, no matter how alone and lost he'd felt, no matter how afraid he'd been all the time about what would be happening to him in the future. And now he found himself too weak to do the right thing… push John away again with all his might. Again.

Focusing on John's hand above his heart, he noticed a strange calmness settling over him. The thought that the older man was now an inherent part of his life eased his fear of the future somewhat… knowing that John wouldn't leave him… But then he remembered the hollow feeling this morning after waking up, caused by John's absence. And he wanted John to hold him again like the day before… because it had felt good. Ridiculous, wasn't it?

"John?" he whispered before he even realized what he was about to ask. "Can you please… hold me?"

He kept his eyes closed, not daring to open them and see what kind of reaction his words caused… and he waited… and hoped.

John's breath caught in his throat as the words sunk in. He didn't see the way John looked at him. Surprised, but only for a brief moment before the surprise was replaced by a fond expression, mingled with sorrow. He was painfully aware that Randy's plea did not result from the kind of feelings John would want to be the reason but from the simple craving for human closeness. But it was okay because it was far more than he could have hoped for just a few days ago.

So he drew his hand back and got up from his place on the bed and as he did so, he felt Randy gripping his hand to stop him. The grey eyes stayed closed though.

"It's okay, Randy. I'm not going anywhere."

Very carefully he lay down beside the younger man, snaking one arm under Randy's head while pulling his hand out from under Randy's. He wrapped his arm around his upper body, scooting as close as possible without jarring his injuries. With a soft sigh on his lips, Randy turned a little towards John.

For quiet and long minutes they stayed like this, being as content as the whole situation granted them to be in the others closeness. There was another small sigh falling from Randy's lips and the older man hummed lowly in response and while John focused on the feeling of holding the one he loved in his arms, he felt Randy relax more and more with every minute that passed.

"Thanks, John," Randy whispered eventually and much too soon for John's taste. "I know this must be kind of strange for you, so if you want to, you know, get out of the bed it's okay."

Smiling fondly at the younger man, John closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillow and his cheek against Randy's temple. After a few seconds he allowed his arm to move further down, wrapping it around Randy's waist very gently… and maybe a little possessive.

"No, I don't want to get out of the bed," John replied quietly.

Randy's good hand settled on his forearm, his fingers closing around it in a light hold, not to pull John's arm away but to keep it right there.

"Good," Randy whispered again, his voice laced with relief.

It was peaceful the way the lay there and it made John feel bad that he had to disturb this peace. There were still questions on his mind that wanted, needed to be answered…

"Randy… please don't get upset, okay? Why are you refusing a treatment? I know what you said yesterday but…"

John spoke very quietly. Randy tensed a bit, although not as much as John would have expected him to.

"I've seen people undergo a chemo and I've seen the outcome. Weeks and months of painful treatments. Days without being able to even get out of the bed for a minute, sickness, depression. All of it without a guarantee that the treatment will take effect," he murmured surprisingly calm, almost resigned. "And a surgery? What if they cut just a bit too deep? What if I wake up and can't even move a finger anymore? What if I'm waking up as a living vegetable? And worse, what if I'm fully aware of all of it and can't make myself being noticed? I'm afraid, John. I'm afraid of all of this."

Silence fell for a few moments and John tightened his embrace a bit, attempting to give as much comfort as possible, and breathed a kiss to Randy's temple.

"I know, Randy, and I can understand that you're afraid. I would be, too. But there is a chance of full recovery. There are so many things that are worth to fight and live for, like you family, your wife. And especially your little girl. She needs her dad," John murmured.

"She doesn't need a cripple as a dad," Randy replied bitterly.

"Hey, stop saying that."

A huff.

"I can't move my legs. Sure John, you're right, I'm not a cripple. And no one can tell what a treatment will cause."

John sighed heavily.

"The doc said there is a good chance that you'll be able to move your legs again. And you're right, no one can tell what a treatment will cause. What if the treatment causes healing? Ever lost a thought about that? What if everything turns out good you'll be able to watch Alanna grow up and celebrate your hundredth birthday?"

"I came here because of a headache and they found two tumors. I had an accident that nearly killed me and they found a third one. And now I can't move my legs anymore. Sorry, but I stopped being optimistic a while ago."

Another sigh from the older man.

"Is there nothing that can change your mind?" he asked, hoping that Randy would name something… anything.

But Randy stayed silent. His only reaction was to hold John's arm tighter to his waist. John shifted slightly, resting his forehead against Randy's temple, bringing his lips close to the younger man's ear.

"Please, think about it, Randy," he whispered, begged. "I don't want you to die."

John's words hurt and soothed him at the same time and again his mind screamed to send the older man away before it was too late, yet his heart refused to let him go and he wanted to hide in his embrace. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes began to burn as hot tears started to run down his face.

"I don't want to lose you, Randy…"

John's voice broke as the pain was back, flaring up full force, burning, numbing, cutting through him, devouring him. Tears he didn't even noticed being there fell, mingling with Randy's.

The room fell quiet as both men cried silently. And once again John felt like Randy's life slipped through his fingers, no matter how hard he tried get a hold on it.

Time was running… and it seemed to outrun John…

x

It was already dark outside when John arrived at the house. Randy's house. A quite big, white painted, conservative house with a nice little front garden. He'd been here before a few times, dropping Randy off after being out for a drink together.

While lying in the rather slim hospital bed with Randy in his arms, he'd decided to come here and talk to Sam. He wanted Randy to stay alive and to make that happen he needed him to change his mind and… he needed good arguments to convince him to do so. He was sure that Randy's little girl was a good reason but he had to talk Sam into giving him the chance to see her first.

Slowly walking up the path to the house, he reeled the speech he'd been preparing ever since leaving the hospital over and over again in his head, imagining possible reactions and trying to find a good answer to them. This had to work out. _It had to._

When John arrived at the door, he just stood there for a few minutes, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously.

_God please let her at least listen to me... _

And then, brushing his hands through his face, he took a deep breath and reached out, hitting the doorbell and despite his nervousness he had to smile. The house _looked_ conservative and the doorbell _sounded_ conservative. So very not Randy. Really, the man was heavily inked and liked Metal and such stuff.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened a crack and a woman… Sam... peered through it. Hoping this wouldn't end up in a disaster, he pulled up a gaining smile.

"Hi, my name is John Cena. I, uhm, I wanted to talk with you about Randy and…" he started but she cut him off.

"I know who you are and I'm not the least bit interested in talking about _him_," she snapped. "It's late and you should go now."

Just as she wanted to close the door again, John put his foot between door and frame.

"Sam, wait. At least listen to me. _Please_."

Sam glared at him through the crack for a few moments and John thought that Sam either had never been a very amiable woman or that she was simply filled with pure bitterness after all that had happened.

Then her eyes softened a tiny, tiny bit as she said: "Uhm… well, okay. Take your foot away, I need to open the door latch."

Reluctantly he took his foot away. There was a fifty-fifty chance that she wouldn't open the door again. But she _did_ open the door, beckoning to him to come in. The house was as conservative on the inside as it was on the outside John noticed as he followed her to the living room where he sat down on the couch. Sam chose the armchair on the opposite side.

"Keep it short," she said clipped, crossing her arms over her chest.

John nodded lightly, thinking that this would be everything… except easy. She wanted him to keep it short and so he decided to do as he was asked.

"Why isn't Randy allowed to see his daughter?"

She squinted her eyes at him.

"Did he send you?"

Her voice dripped with venom and he wondered how love can turn to such bitter hate.

"No, he didn't. He has no idea that I'm sitting here," John explained softly. "Sam, I'm here because I want him to fight for his life, okay? I'm trying to convince him that there are reasons to live. And his daughter is one of those reasons."

Huffing a bitter laugh she stood up and started to walk about the room.

"That's wasted time, John. I already tried that but he chose to die. Not his parents or I, not even his own daughter is reason enough for him to come to senses. And I don't want Alanna to see her Daddy die! He wanted it this way and now he has to live with his decision!"

John folded his hands and stared at them while he heard her walk through the room.

"What did you tell her why she can't see him?"

She stopped her pacing for a moment and he felt her eyes on his back.

"That he left."

Turning his head slightly to the side, he gazed at her from the corner of his eye. Her beautiful face was twisted in anger.

"Oh, good. And you think it's better to make her think that her Daddy isn't interested in her anymore than to tell her that her Daddy is sick?"

With a few quick strides she was in front of him with her arms akimbo, glaring at him.

"And tell a four years old that her Daddy's gonna die?! You have no fucking idea! I tried to make him change his mind, I tried it over and over again but he decided to destroy our family by being the egoistic asshole he is! And who are you anyway to stick your nose into our family business, _Cena_?!"

She hauled those words at him, bitter, hard words. Slowly he got up from his place and stepped away from her, walking over to the window to gaze out into the dark night.

"Maybe you haven't tried hard enough, _Sam_. It took me weeks but I managed to get through to him," he spoke quietly. "And I promised to stay at his side, no matter which way he chooses. This should be your job, by the way. In good times and in bad times, remember? Anyway, as long as there is enough time, I'm gonna do everything to make him change his mind. And that includes his daughter. And if time runs out, I'm still gonna be at his side."

Turning around to her, he leaned against the windowsill, looking straight into her anger-blazing eyes and he saw there that his words had hit home. But she wasn't the only one who was angry. Deep in his guts he felt something coil up at the whole fucking situation, but he tried to stay calm.

"You don't need to agree with his decision and you don't need to take him back, but at least give him the chance to see his little girl," John added. "And give me the chance to save him. _Please_, Sam, I need your help."

For a moment she just stood there, staring at him in anger and something else John couldn't name, before her jaw set.

Motioning towards the front door she hissed: "He let us down, so why should I put my daughter and myself through this shit. No, John, I'm through with this and with him. And we're done here. Go."

Gritting his teeth he told himself that it wasn't a good idea to grab her and shake some sense into her pretty head. And yelling wouldn't do any good, too, so he nodded lightly and swallowed his growing anger down. Never give up hope, right? Maybe, if she had some time to think about their little conversation… just maybe… she would give in.

"Okay, I see. Just… you know, you wouldn't need to be around for the visit. If you drop Alanna off in front of his room, I could bring her to him and later back to you? Just give it a thought," he suggested as a last attempt and pulled out a calling card, laying it on the armrest of the couch, just in case she decided to agree to his suggestion and wanted to call him.

Making his way towards the front door, he turned around in the doorway of the living-room, eyeing her for a few seconds.

"I know you're not interested in how he's doing, but I think you should know that his injuries from the accident are getting better. But… they found a third tumor during the emergency operation in the area of the broken vertebrae, close to the spinal marrow. They removed it and the damage the surgery left to the spinal marrow caused a paraplegia. Just in case that deep down inside that embittered heart of yours there is a small part left that's interested in him."

That said he turned away from her, left the house and walked down the garden path until he reached the curb where he stopped, directing his gaze up to the night sky. The night was surprisingly clear and the air was just warm enough to make it a beautiful night, with sparkling stars and a calming atmosphere.

John really hoped that she gave it a thought or two. In a way he could understand her, but she was Randy's wife and it was her duty to be at his side and be there for him. A part of him wanted to go back to the house and fucking tell her that he knew how it felt when the person you loved most decided not to fight for his life. That he knew how _she_ felt when it came to Randy, except that _he_ wouldn't give the younger man up. And he wanted to ask her if she'd ever _really_ loved him.

But he didn't. Instead he only gazed back to the house, where he found her standing at the window, watching him. He sighed and started to walk to his car.

Just as he climbed onto the driver's seat his cell beeped, showing him a message from Randy.

_You gonna drop in tomorrow?_

John smiled and ran his thumb over the screen. Not long ago John would have bet that Randy would be afraid that he _would_ come back, and now… the very reverse. It almost seemed as if Randy was still kind of afraid that he _wouldn't_ come back.

_Sure thing, wouldn't want to be anywhere else._

He hit the send button and hoped like so often that he didn't overstep a line. He was aware that some of the things he did and sometimes even the words he chose could be misinterpret… or rather be interpret exactly the way they were meant… A moment later his cell beeped again. Another message from Randy. A message that made his smile lighten up a few degrees and bestowed him a warm tingle in his belly…

_Good, because I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else, too :-)_

Laughing softly he started the car and headed home, hoping that Sam would change her mind. And Randy's last message gave him the slight hope that maybe they were on the right way…


	10. Chapter 10

Hello, hello!

This part is long overdue but I had to finish _All I have_ first.

Thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate any kind of feedback!

So, I hope you like this part, too ;3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx

John passed the entrance to the hospital and made his way to Randy's room, like so very often since the day they brought the younger man here. A bag with their lunch was dangling from his hand. Salad with grilled chicken and a few bagels for both of them.

Although Randy wasn't able to leave the bed, hell, he wasn't even able to move much at all, he had lost weight lately. The nurses had told John that the younger man refused to eat and it surprised John a bit, because every time he brought food along, Randy ate it. Well, not very much, but he did. So John decided to make sure Randy would eat and he started to already drop in for breakfast, go out to get some lunch around noon and dinner around six p.m. and stayed until eight or nine p.m. That was about three weeks ago and since then not one single time Randy had refused to eat.

A while ago Randy had asked him how long Vince had given him a time-out and just like the moment Phil had asked him that, he'd hesitated a tiny bit too long. And although Randy had called him crazy and a complete idiot and some more names for quitting his job, he seemed to very much welcome the fact that John spent almost the whole day with him and every once in a while there was a small ache in John's heart because Randy still seemed like a starving man when it came to receiving any kind of affection. Randy hadn't asked him again to crawl into his bed and hold him but every day he'd opened up a little more. Somewhere along the line he had started to rely on John.

_No, Sunshine, he doesn't rely on you. He depends on you. There is a big difference between those two things, goddammit. You can rely on someone when you have a choice but he has no choice because there's nobody left except you who cares about him. _

Phil's words. Words he'd said a few days ago during an evening they'd spend together… Gritting his teeth John did his best to push the words away. God damn yes, there was a big difference between relying or depending on someone. But Randy relied on him because he's had a choice, between being alone, like he'd been before, and let someone back into his life, like he'd done.

Lost in his thoughts John stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the right floor and leaned back against the wall, faintly registering people step in or out.

The days had been filled with a lot of talking and bit by bit he came to know the real Randy behind the façade and… it made John love him even more. They played cards and stuff, watched TV in companionable silence. Every once in a while they took a nap, always with John sitting beside and half lying on the bed. Okay, Randy hadn't asked him to crawl in again, but hey, completely innocently worming halfway in could do no harm and really, taking a nap sitting on a hospital chair wasn't much comfy. Randy never said a word but sometimes his good hand found its way to John's, taking a light hold of it. Those moments were rare in the beginning but became more frequent during those weeks. First it was only during their naps but then Randy's hand sought John's also while they were talking or watching TV and it was always a light touch, almost like Randy wanted to make sure John was really there. Maybe it was just the need for a bit of closeness, affection and John was very much willing to give him what he needed.

And there was Phil. Phil, who was always worried about him. Phil, who had become such a good friend… and in a way… more than just a good friend. Phil had promised to have his back not matter what. John had successfully managed to silence the voice of reason in the back of his head and almost like Phil knew that, he had become the voice of reason John couldn't silence. And the older man knew that Phil said what he said because he was worried that the whole thing could break him. Still it wasn't pleasant to hear things like _he doesn't rely on you. He depends on you. _But he was there for John and he gave him much more than just simple friendship.

And while John and Randy developed a routine, John and Phil did, too, by settling for a get-together three days a week. He liked spending his time with Phil because it was always entertaining, calming and a chance to recharge his batteries. Phil made him laugh, gave him the warm feeling of comfort and safeness, gave him a different point of view about the whole thing to think about. Those days were a badly needed balance because no matter how much he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Randy, no matter how much he wanted to help the younger man, make him fight… or how much he loved him… the whole thing was getting under his skin. Much sooner than he would have expected. He would never have admitted it to anyone though. John had promised to walk this way with Randy and he would stay the course and maybe the only reason the whole situation was so damn exhausting was because Randy made no sign to change his mind and John hoped, every day, every minute and every damn second he _would_ change his mind. The waiting and hoping was straining…

_Phil stuck shoulder-deep in the fridge, fishing for something that had not been an animal before, not noticing the amused smirk on John's face while he watched the younger man dig through the food. There was a muted grumbling from out the fridge and then Phil crawled out of it, wrinkling his nose._

"_Oh come on, you knew I would drop in!" Phil whined and the smirk on John's face grew._

"_Stop the whining, I've already made some Bolognese sauce," John said and held his hands up immediately when Phil opened his mouth to protest. "And before you call me a Neanderthal again, it's with vegetarian meat."_

_There was a short pause when Phil frowned at him in question._

"_I meant tofu, Phil."_

"_Oh."_

_Phil hopped onto the counter, watching him like a starved dog as he started with the pasta. _

"_Any news from your construction site?" Phil asked after a moment._

_John looked up from the cooker and half-glared at Phil as he replied: "Hey. Don't call him that, okay?"_

"_Okay, okay, Sunshine, I'm sorry. So, how's Randy doing?"_

_Nodding the older man focused back on the pasta._

"_Same as always, it's getting better bit by bit," John said, but his voice was somehow tense and Phil knew why._

"_But still no sign that he might change his mind?" Phil spoke softly, slipping from the counter, stepping up close behind John._

"_No. Not the merest hint," John whispered as Phil's arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned back into the embrace._

_A soft kiss was dropped on his shoulder and with a low hum he turned around to Phil who was looking at him with eyes as soft as his kiss had been. For a moment they just gazed at each other, before John leaned in and kissed Phil, felt his lips part to grant him entrance and meeting him halfway, they fell into a lazy kiss. _

_There had not been another situation of almost having sex, but they had grown close, close enough that kissing, snuggling and occasional make-outs had become part of their… friendship. _

_When the kiss broke, John's arms came up around the younger man's neck to pull him close, burying his face in the crook of Phil's neck. It had been an exhausting day somehow. Emotional exhausting. There were days when the situation got the best of him, when he felt too weak to go on like this. Days that seemed to drain him from every bit of energy he had left. This had been one of those days… The whole day he had drifted between the wish to just crawl into his bed and shut out the world or snap, because it all had become too much. And right now his nerves were singing like an overstretched guitar string and he tried to silence his singing nerves with… Phil._

"_You still have time, Sunshine," Phil murmured and rested his chin on the broad shoulder._

"_Yeah, I have all the time in the world…" John murmured back. "I'm not sure how much time _he_ has left, Phil…"_

_With a sigh Phil began to rub soothing circles on the broad back and in responds John wrapped his arms even tighter around his neck. It was somehow odd. They were the same height and okay, John was about seventeen pounds heavier than Phil was but seventeen pounds weren't the world, still… it always felt to Phil like he could get lost in John's embrace. Those broad shoulders and strong arms, wrapping him up completely… Turning his face against John's neck, Phil closed his eyes and while he allowed himself to fall into the older man's closeness, John savored once more the comfort Phil was giving him._

"_What about Sam?" Phil asked quietly._

_John exhaled audibly._

"_Nothing. Not one single word. Fuck… I hoped so damn much that she would allow Randy to see his little girl…" he muttered, heavy disappointment and sadness lacing his voice. _

"_Did you tell him that you talked to her?"_

"_No. It would have been too painful for him to hope for a chance to see Alanna, just to be disappointed in the end, you know? He just started to rely on me…"_

_There was a heavy sigh and then Phil drew his head back, shaking it lightly._

"_No, Sunshine, he doesn't rely on you. He depends on you. There is a big difference between those two things, goddammit," Phil muttered in an I-know-it-stings-but-I-gotta-say-it tone. "One can rely on someone when one has a choice but he has no choice because there's nobody left except you who cares about him."_

_With a hissed _great_ John's arms around the younger man's neck vanished and then John pushed him away, gently but insistently, before moving out from between the cooker and Phil. He walked over to the fridge and helped himself to a beer._

"_He had a choice, Phil," John said quietly while turning back to his friend. "Stay alone or let someone back into his life and he chose to let me in."_

_Phil graced him with a really?-look, plastered all over his face. _

"_I wouldn't call that much of a choice, Sunshine."_

_The beer was placed on the counter. With a low groan John tipped his head back, wiping his hands down his face before looking Phil straight into the eyes. The day had simply been long. Too long to end it with a conversation like this. And in the back of his mind John heard the singing become louder again._

"_What's your fucking problem, Phil?"_

_Phil stepped closer to him, but John just grabbed his beer and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the pasta forgotten on the cooker, and over to his couch, where he let himself fall heavily into the cushion. The younger man followed him, stopping about four steps away from the couch, staring at John's back. The broad shoulders seemed to be somewhat hunched, as if he tried to hide…_

"_Look, John, I'm not spoiling for a fight and you know that, right? It's just… you're about to sugarcoat the facts, okay? And I don't want you to lose touch with reality," Phil said slowly and his voice was calm, soothing as he spoke. "What do you think will happen if his family wants him back?"_

_Huffing, the older man shook his head lightly and took a sip of his beer._

"_Dammit, Phil, I know that you don't like him but stop trashing him, okay?! Do you really think I don't know all that? I know that he'll go back. I fucking know that he'll choose his family, still I was the one who ran to his lovely wife and tried to talk some sense into her!" John snapped, hurling his beer against the opposite wall where the bottle shattered to a thousand pieces. "FUCK!"_

_Startled by the sudden outburst, Phil took a step back, unseen by his friend. This was so unlike John. Losing control… But there had been various moments in the past weeks when John had acted so unlike him and Phil wasn't sure what worried him more: the things John had done or the mere fact that John lost his control at all._

_Gazing at the mess the bottle had left on the wall and the floor, he took a reluctant step closer. _

"_Sunshine… you devote your whole life to this man and I'm worried what will happen to you if he goes back to his wife and his daughter. I'm afraid that it'll break you. I don't wanna watch you fall to pieces, okay?"_

_Another huff. John didn't turn around though._

"_Well… I guess you should go then…" he hissed as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands._

_For a moment Phil hesitated, eyes wide as he stared at the older man. Unbelieving he tilted his head a bit to the side and the wide eyes narrowed as John's words sunk in._

"_What?!" _

_He wanted to snap at John, but the word was rather choked out than snapped. _

"_You heard me. I'm not gonna let him down, no matter if he decides to die or fight for his life and if he goes back to his family, I'll cope with it… somehow. And if it breaks me, so it be. Because it sure as hell is gonna break me if I leave him," John croaked as his voice suddenly failed him. "We had that before and you said you're gonna have my back… but I understand if you decide otherwise now. I'd rather have you at my side, but if you can't live with my decisions, you should go now…"_

_Silence spread, filling the room, creating a deafening, choking silence as John sat unmoving, face still buried in his hands and the only thing Phil could do was standing there, staring. And while a part of John knew that his words had hurt Phil enough to probably make him throw the towel, the other part hoped that the couch would dip under the younger man's weight any second, that those comforting arms would wrap around him. God, he was so damn selfish… But this part of him hoped so much for it and as much as he wanted to apologize and beg him to stay, he couldn't bring the words over his lips._

_The sudden footsteps seemed much too loud in this silence as Phil… left. John heard the rustling of a jacket, heard keys being picked up and the sound of a door being opened. A moment later the front door clicked shut. John flinched at that small sound and he took a shaky breath. He'd never wanted Phil to leave… but…_

"_Phil…" he whispered and the silence seemed to grow thicker and thicker, weighing down heavy on him. _

_For a few minutes he didn't move. He couldn't have moved anyway, even if he had wanted to because he simply was too tired. Too drained… Gods, he was so pathetic, sitting here like a picture of misery, pitying himself…_

_Randy…_

_The name echoed in his mind and he would have given anything to be at Randy's bed now, holding his hand… and hear his voice… If he focused his mind on that one memory, the moment Randy had asked him to hold him… he could still feel him in his arms…_

_And so he did it remember, focusing, trying hard to banish the silence surrounding him with that memory…_

"_You could have at least tried to stop me, you know?"_

_The unexpected voice made John flinch and startled he looked up, half-turning towards the main direction of the front door, where he found Phil standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked frankly pissed, yet sad and very much worried._

"_Phil?" the older man whispered unbelievingly. "Why…? How…?"_

_Phil brushed a hand over his forehead, before he peeled out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, and walked over to the couch, followed by John's wide eyed stare. _

"_I never left, you selfish asshole," he growled but without much intensity. "You would have noticed that if you would just have spared one single glance, but you obviously didn't think of it as necessary to grace me with any further attention. Wonderful, just wonderful… I've got my own construction site…"_

_Stopping right in front of John, he crossed his arms and looking down in those wide blue eyes, he felt his anger deflate. A whispered _sorry_ passed John's lips._

"_Yeah, I know, I know…" the younger man muttered as he kneeled down between John's legs, coming eye to eye with John who reached out, fingers fisting into the fabric of the younger man's shirt. "I'm sorry, too, you know?"_

_With a desperate tug John pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him in a crushing embrace, receiving a surprised gasp from Phil, whose arms looped his friend's waist after a brief moment. Relief and gratefulness flooded John, because Phil had decided to stay despite his words and him being a complete ass._

"_I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to go," John whispered. "Gods, I didn't mean what I said…"_

_Laughing softly, Phil turned his face slightly, nuzzling against the short hair as he replied quietly: "Oh, yes, you did. Well, maybe not the part that I should go, but the whole rest. I knew what I got myself into from the beginning and I know I shouldn't have pushed it. It's just… I love you too much and it hurts me to watch you get hurt, Sunshine."_

_John drew back a bit, searching the younger man's eyes for a few heartbeats before speaking quietly: "Phil, I… you know that I like you, very much. And I'm grateful beyond words for everything that you give to me, that you're at my side, but… I don't love y…"_

_Hushing the older man with a slight shake of his head, Phil replied as quietly: "Hey, everything's fine, Sunshine. I do love you but not… that way. I can control myself enough to prevent myself from falling in love with someone who already lost his heart to someone else than me."_

_With a bitter laugh on his lips John leaned in and rested his forehead against Phil's._

"_Then you're much stronger than I was. The moment I realized that I was falling for him, I wanted to stop it... I wouldn't file it under success, I guess…"_

_He huffed another bitter laugh._

"_John… listen… I feel definitely more than just simple friendship for you and that's why I'm so friggin' damn worried about you all the time. I'd rather want to see you perfectly happy in a relationship with someone who loves you back. But no, I have to watch you hope, only to be disappointed. I see you put all you are into this one-sided… relationship and to me it seems that you get nothing back than sorrow. I know you want nothing more than to be there for him, help him, be strong for him and maybe even manage to make him fight for his life but you're suffering and all I can do is pick up the pieces and put you back together. And I'm scared, Sunshine. Scared that one day you shatter beyond a point where the damage can be repaired. And I don't want that. God dammit, I don't want that…"_

_Phil was cut off by John who suddenly closed the gap and claimed his mouth for a needy kiss and Phil's responds was immediate. Returning the kiss he pressed even closer to the massive body in his arms, his hands finding their way under John's shirt, feeling the by now familiar muscles move under his touch, only to get rid of the offending piece of fabric after getting a first fill. A moment later Phil's shirt followed and John's hand started to roam his upper body, but just as John wanted to pull him up and onto his lap, he was stopped by the younger man._

"_Wait," Phil whispered against his lips, before nipping softly at his bottom lip. "I want you to feel good, Sunshine… Let me make you feel good…"_

_John felt himself being pushed back gently and he obeyed, leaning back against the backrest of the couch, his eyes fixed on Phil's in question. Phil was still kneeling between his legs, running his hands now over John's thighs. There was a determination glinting in the younger man's eyes that made his cock stir, even more as Phil's hands moved further up, over John's abs, nails scraping lightly over the skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. _

"_Close your eyes, Sunshine," Phil whispered again as he leaned forward to place a kiss right under John's belly button, kissing his way down and that second John realized what Phil was about to do._

_The right thing would have been to stop him but all he could do was watch in a sudden nervous anticipation as nimble fingers started to work on his belt and his shorts and he felt his cock strain against the fabric, begging for attention. Then suddenly Phil paused as felt John's eyes resting on him._

"_I told you to close your eyes," Phil breathed with a smirk on his lips and this time, although reluctantly, John obeyed. "Relax…"_

_A moment later cool air hit his cock and he gasped as talented fingers traced light patterns over his abs, up to his chest to brush teasingly over his nipples and back down to his cock, the touch so barely that it was driving him insane. He allowed himself to fall into those light touches, to get lost and all the strain this day had put on him curled up in his belly, waiting for a release._

_A soft whimper fell from John's lips as the younger man's hand closed around his cock, starting gentle stroking, while his free hand traveled up again, his nails scraping over soft skin. And then Phil's lips closed around his cock, his tongue probing the slit, circling around the head, drawing a shuddering moan from the older man. Focusing on this new and gods, this damn good sensation he felt Phil lick the protruding vein under his shaft to the base and back up to take him into his mouth again, bobbing his head up and down. Between John's gasps and moans and Phil's stroking and sucking John managed to bring his hands to Phil's head, burying his fingers in the dark hair and his other hand found the younger man's shoulder, holding onto it._

_Although John didn't want this extraordinary feeling end too soon, it didn't take him long to fall apart at the combination of the stress that had weighed down on him the whole day and the unbelievable good sensations Phil was giving to him. That intoxicating combination was pushing him towards the edge, more and more, faster…_

"_Phil… gods… I'm gonna…"_

_John never finished his sentence. The knot in his belly uncurled, sending waves of heat throughout his body and he bucked up, arching his back and at the slight shift he felt Phil swallow around him, deep throating him, sending him over the edge. A strangled groan escaped his throat and his orgasm hit hard enough to make him see stars, pouring electricity into every single fiber of his body and Phil took all he had to give…_

_Slowly he came down from his high, dwelling in the warm tingling of the aftermath and faintly he felt Phil get him dressed again and then nuzzle against his belly while the younger man's fingers started to trace patterns on his skin again. Peeking down he found himself greeted by warm and comforting eyes and mirth was sparkling in them._

"_Better now, Sunshine?" Phil said quietly and all John could do was nod and pull him up until Phil was straddling his lap. _

_With a low hum he claimed Phil's mouth for a lazy kiss, feeling the younger man smile against his lips. The kiss didn't last long and when John drew back, he looked at Phil in question, not sure if his friend expected him to return the favor or… He wasn't even sure if he could bring himself to give a man a blow-job._

"_I… I've never… you know, given a blow-job, so…" he started hushed and a bit nervous but Phil shook his head._

"_I don't expect anything from you," Phil replied quietly. "I just wanted to make you feel good, okay? Now, stop thinking too much and let's kiss a little more…"_

_And with that he leaned in to steal another kiss from him and again John allowed himself to fall…_

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. John stepped out and walked down the corridor towards Randy's room. After their breakfast this morning the doc had come in for his usual visit and after a brief check-up he'd informed them that, yes, today would be the day that Randy got rid of the splint on his right leg and his left arm and shoulder, provided that the X-ray would be okay.

The cuts and bruises were long gone and with them all the bandages. The only visible signs left of the accident were the splints… and a scar on Randy's forehead. More than once John had placed a tender kiss on that scar while Randy had been sleeping and maybe those kisses were a quiet thank you that Randy was still alive.

They had spent the following hour more or less in silence, just sitting there and again Randy's hand found John's, but this time his hold wasn't light. It was bordering on a painfully tight grip and there was a scared expression in the younger man's eyes, although he should have been happy. And it didn't matter what John said to cheer Randy up, all he got in return was a whispered _yes_ or _no_ or nothing at all, so after a while he settled to just sit close to Randy and hold his hand, running his thumb soothingly over the tanned skin.

Finally two nurses came and took him away. The fact that Randy refused to let go of his hand bestowed John a painful sting in his chest, seeing the younger man scared like this. Eventually Randy let go and John watched as the two girls pushed the bed out of the room…

He could have waited in the room, but hell… he'd been much too nervous to sit in an empty room and wait and so he went out to get some distraction. The distraction turned out to be a new X-Box and a nice and big TV for Randy's room and some more things he'd wanted to buy sooner or later anyway. Afterwards he went to the coffee shop in which he'd become a regular guest in the meantime, where he had three coffee, went to get their lunch and then made his way back to the hospital.

Lost in his thoughts John passed his old friend, the lonely chair close to Randy's room, and it was a hand on his shoulder that made him jump out of his skin and gasp in surprise. The hand belonged to Randy's doc and John exhaled audibly.

"Good god, you nearly gave me heart attack," he muttered as the man held his hands up in apology.

"Well, I called your name but you didn't hear me," the doctor replied politely. "You haven't talked to Mr. Orton yet?"

John shook his head slightly, his eyes narrowing at the question.

"No, why?" he asked a little alarmed.

"See, the X-ray was okay, the fractures are healed so far. The splints are removed and Mr. Orton is allowed to leave the bed, but he has to wear a splint for his back for that time. It's comparable to a tortoiseshell. The splint prevents him from doing movements that could strain his lumbar region. Although the fractures of the vertebrae are healed, he should still be careful," the doctor explained and pinched the bridge of his nose. "A wheelchair should be brought in the afternoon."

"Okay, that sounds good. But why do I have the feeling that there is something else?" John said slowly, his gaze jumping from the medic to the door of Randy's room and back.

The medic sighed and frowned.

"There _is_ something else. We wanted to start the physical therapy this very day, but he refuses the therapy. Vehemently. He said from his point of view it's wasted time."

Wiping a hand down his face, John sighed. The bitchy Randy was back. Once again need for discussion…

"I'm gonna talk to him," John assured and the man nodded and left.

Watching the medic leave, John mentally prepared for the upcoming discussion, hoping that maybe it just had been an outlet for the stress this morning. The physio was important, no matter if Randy agreed to a chemo or surgery eventually or… not. The door to Randy's room jumped open and a nurse came out, shaking her head with an unnerved expression on her face. Okay, urgent need for discussion here. The young woman walked away, leaving the door a crack open and taking a deep breath, John stepped up to the door and… froze.

Through the crack he saw Randy sitting in his bed, propped up against the headboard, but he sat a bit hunched over, staring down on his legs. His left shoulder was hanging slightly, almost as if he lacked the strength to hold it up and compared to his right arm, his left one looked thinner. Amyotrophia… John winced at the sight. The way his friend sat there, hunched… his shoulder, his arm… he looked so lost, broken and it hurt John to see him like this and he wanted nothing more than to go in there and hold him tight. But he didn't, knowing he had to approach this topic carefully and so he reminded himself that with the physio it would be only a short time until the muscles of his shoulder and arm were back in shape.

So he kept standing there, watching, giving the younger man some more time. Randy's hands were resting on his thighs, his fingers digging into them. John didn't need a glance under the blanket to know that there was nothing left of those perfectly shaped legs. The amyotrophia had begun the very moment Randy had lost his ability to move his legs and over the past weeks the silhouette of his left thigh under the blanket had become visibly thinner. John was sure that Randy had been aware of the fact, but maybe seeing his right leg and his left arm also like this had been too much for one day.

For a brief moment Randy closed his eyes. His jaw muscles twitched. And then he lifted a hand to his face, wiping over his cheek. He was crying…

_Oh Randy…_

Faintly John felt something trail down his own cheek and when he reached up he realized that there were tears running down. When had he started to cry? Turning away, he wiped his cheeks dry and took a few deep breaths. He had to go in there, be there for Randy, be strong.

"Get a grip, John," he hissed to himself, before he straightened up and turned back to the door.

He knocked at the door and waited, giving Randy the time to get some of his composure back, but the knock remained unanswered. And so he called the younger man's name, again waiting for an answer. After a brief moment the answer came, a hesitant and shaky _come in_. And John did.

The moment he stepped in Randy looked up to him. His hands were resting on his lap, fingers buried in the blanket. The smile he was giving John was as shaky as his voice hand been but at least it was an honest one and smiling back, John walked over to the bed, dropping their lunch carelessly beside the bed and sitting down on its edge.

"So the splints are off. Good," John said quietly, searching the younger man's eyes only to be greeted by the same scared expression he'd seen this morning and desperate grief, but he tried not to let Randy notice that he saw it. "Lemme see."

Gently he took hold of Randy's left hand, while his free hand ran over the left arm up to the shoulder, his eyes followed its trail, and the small flinch Randy gave under his touch didn't escape his notice. But at least he didn't try to pull his arm away. Not yet. Sliding his hand back down, he held Randy's in both of his and he looked back up to the grey orbs. God, how he wanted to make that expression vanish from them…

"With daily physio your arm will be back in shape in no time, Randy."

Sentence finished, he felt Randy pull his arm back, but he didn't let go of his hand and the attempt to free his hand was only half-heartedly, so after a moment Randy gave up, curling his fingers around John's instead.

"I don't want a physio, John. It's wasted time. I'm gonna die and I want to spend the time I have left with something more enjoyable than…"

He was cut off by a painful squeeze John gave his hand and that squeeze and the sudden tense expression on the older man's face made him wince.

"Don't, Randy," John said, voice strained.

Randy's words had stung and the ache lingered in his chest.

"I know that you chose to die, okay? And it's haunting me, every damn single minute, so you don't need to repeat it constantly," John spoke, voice still strained. "But the physio is important. We need to get your arm back in shape because you're gonna need it as long as… you're still there. And your legs will become stiff if they won't be moved."

John reached back with one hand, settling it on Randy's right thigh and with a hissed _don't_ Randy took him by surprise and jerked his hand out of John's hold, gripping the one on his thigh in a weak hold to pull it off. And the ache in John's chest grew...

"Randy… I know it's hard for you but… let me see your legs. I just want to help you, okay? Trust me."

A shadow cast over his eyes as he turned his face away from John, letting go of his hand. His arm fell lifeless to his side… defeated, resigned and the moment John pulled the blanket back, those eyes closed tightly, as if he tried to shut out the world. The image the blanket revealed wasn't much surprising and as John had expected the amyotrophia had done a good job. There wasn't much left of those admirable legs and they would fade even more over the time… His eyes flicked to Randy's, finding them still closed. With a silent sigh he touched Randy's thighs, smoothing over the skin, taking in how warm yet lifeless they felt under his touch.

After a moment his movement stilled and he whispered: "Randy? Open your eyes…"

But Randy kept his eyes closed, brows furrowing.

"Come on, look at me…" John whispered again and with one hand he reached out, cupping his friend's cheek, urging him to open his eyes while his other hand remained on Randy's leg. "Please, Randy…"

Eventually and very slowly Randy opened his eyes and as his gaze fell on John's hand on his thigh, he stopped breathing for a few heartbeats. There was a glint in the depth of the younger man's eyes, some unknown emotion and he blinked, once, twice and a few tears rolled down his cheeks again and his reaction fed the small and lingering hope deep in John that maybe, just maybe Randy hadn't given himself up completely.

Managing somehow to pull up a comforting smile, John wiped the tears away and murmured: "We can't change the fact that you can't move your legs and we can't stop the amyotrophia but you need the physio. I'm gonna ask the physio therapist to show me what to do and we're gonna do this together, okay?"

Randy gave the tiniest of nods, before he whispered the older man's name and his hands came up, fisting in John's shirt to pull him in, pull him close… closer and with a shaky sigh he wrapped his arms around John's waist. John's hand settled on his nape and his other arm around Randy's shoulder and in a helpless attempt to give some comfort he began murmuring soothing words.

Burying his face in the crook of John's neck, he whispered, almost pleadingly: "Promise that you never leave me, no matter what happens…"

John tightened his embrace, rubbing soothing circles on the younger man's back. He'd promised that before but to hear those words from Randy… his heart clenched painfully and he had to swallow hard.

He turned his face against the short hair and whispered back: "I promise, Randy. I wouldn't even leave you if you would go back to being a selfish ass, you know? You're stuck with me…"

There was a soft chuckle against his neck, but that chuckle morphed and Randy's breathing suddenly became faster, shallow and a warm wetness on his skin told him that the younger man cried. The arms around John's waist pulled him even closer and in responds John breathed a kiss to the short hair and then on Randy's shoulder.

"It's okay, Randy. Let go, I've got you… I've got you…" he said hushed, willing all his affection for him into the words and his embrace, because it was all he could do right now… hold him and be there…

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Reviews? ;D


	11. Chapter 11

Heeey! Another update for you!

And thanks to Alonia187, BrightAsNight, TerryHennings, TheGirlInThePinkScarf, Bluestar711, and Guest (whoever you are ;-) for commenting (and being faithful souls)! You guys keep me doing this!

And - *hands hankies to all of you* - maybe I manage to make you cry a little more *hehehe*

And thanks to everyone who reads this!

Enjoy!

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The sound of the soft and steady breathing close to him had become something he craved for, something he needed to soothe his troubled mind. He needed it as much as he needed his warm voice, his tender eyes and those comforting touches he provided. His devotion, resulting out of a friendship he had not wanted in the beginning yet he needed now like he'd never needed anything else before in his life. A devotion out of a friendship he didn't understand or deserve. But this all… he… was what kept him sane right now.

A whisper. His name… And even in his sleep he couldn't let go…

Randy's eyes rested on John's face, watching the tiny twitches, movements as the older man dreamt. John's face was supposed to be smooth in his sleep… but it wasn't. There were fine lines of worry and a certain tenseness in his features. Every once in a while his brows furrowed… or his lips trembled. Randy knew that he was the one who did this to him. He knew that John suffered and sometimes it shone through, but most of the time he was the strong one, holding them both up. But Randy knew that he'd only seen a part of the grief the older man felt. Randy knew how grief felt and he'd learned to read in those once brilliant blue eyes which had lost more and more of that brilliance over the past weeks. Only sometimes it returned to them, at the rare carefree moments, those moments when reality did not weigh down so very hard on them.

Even though Randy had tried to send him away to prevent him from pain and sorrow, John had refused to leave and Randy… had reached a point where going through this without John wasn't an option anymore. The mere thought that John could leave scared him to… death.

In him he'd found someone where he could be who he really was, without having to fear being alone in the end again. He could even ask to be held… just like that. And John? Without hesitation he'd climbed into the bed and held him tight. Or held his hand, just like now. Anchoring him. Even the small kisses here and there, telling Randy almost more than the words John spoke… you're not alone… I've got you. And goddammit, all the embraces, touches, the holding hands and cuddling and the kisses should have felt strange. It didn't though. It felt good and somehow right.

Randy tilted his head a bit to the side as he saw John's features finally relax, watching his sleeping friend more intently. Friend. No, friend wasn't fitting. John was more like… a brother? Maybe even closer than a brother… But the more he thought about it... no. No, even that didn't sound right.

Sighing softly Randy let his thumb smooth over the back of John's hand. John gave him so much and he could give him nothing back.

"You are way too good for this world, Johnny…" Randy whispered.

Sighing John shifted a bit, his hand never letting go of Randy's. His position looked somewhat awkward, half sitting on his chair, half lying on the bed, like always during their naps. Two times John had been lying beside him, holding him and it had felt good. He'd lost count of how often he'd thought of asking him again but although he was sure John would have done it without hesitation, he simply hadn't wanted to strain his friend's good nature…

Yawning, he rubbed his eyes which were still burning from crying. Since John had wormed his way into his life he'd cried more often than ever before in his life. A small and lopsided smile tugged at his lips. John made him cry, but in a good way because every single time he felt better afterwards. Relieved. Again John had held him and when he finally managed to get a grip and stopped crying he'd been tempted to just pull the older man into the bed and hide in his embrace. But he hadn't. Instead he'd let John go, watched him sit down on his chair, holding his hand and after long silent minutes the older man had shifted into his by now usual position half lying on the bed and told him to sleep a bit. Randy had tried to, really, but he simply found no sleep, not even after concentrating on the feeling of John's hand in his.

With an almost inaudible murmur his friend tightened his hold slightly and leaning a bit forward Randy reached out with his free hand and tenderly smoothed over the blond hair, receiving another murmur at the touch.

In the time after the doctor had informed him about the diagnosis he'd wished every damn day that it all would soon find an end. And then came John and at some point he started to hope for some more time and for a while it had seemed like there _was_ enough time. But six days ago his always present headache started to increase again, every day a little more and he knew what it meant. Time was running again and it was running fast. All too fast…

Hoping that he was wrong, he hadn't told John about it yet but the signs were pretty clear and he owed his friend the truth. But not now. Maybe tomorrow…

Right now he wanted to savor the peaceful moment. Again he smoothed over the blond hair, taking in the tickling sensation against his fingertips and just as he drew his hand back, he saw John open his eyes slowly. Blinking tiredly his friend braced on his elbows and his fingers slipped from Randy's, leaving an odd feeling of a loss behind.

"Sorry, I didn't wanna wake you," Randy muttered, feeling guilty for disturbing the older man's much needed sleep.

But John waved it off and wiping his hands through his face he said: "Nah, 's fine. Shouldn't you be sleeping by the way?"

Randy shrugged his shoulders.

"Tried to. Didn't work. Don't know why."

Oh yeah, he was tired. More than tired enough that he should be fast asleep by now but as much as he wanted to, sleep failed him. Probably because he was thinking too much. His mind refused to give him a fucking break.

John looked at him intently for a moment before stating: "Something's bothering you."

Damn this man for being so empathic.

"Yeah, maybe…" Randy whispered back, averting his eyes.

From the corner of his eye he saw John nod, get up and then he climbed into the bed, gently urging him to scoot over a bit and lie down, making Randy stare at him in silent surprise. And it was what he did, just stare while John settled himself along his right side, pressing close, arranging their legs and gently slipping an arm under the younger man's head while his other arm wrapped around Randy's waist, cautiously pulling him close. And then he rested his head on the pillow beside Randy's, looking at him with a thoughtful expression in those still sleepy blue eyes as he noticed him staring.

"Does it make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked quietly.

Calming heat radiated from the massive body along his side, engulfing him like a cocoon. He felt a strong heartbeat where the older man's chest pressed against his shoulder and his warm breath brushed over his neck like a soft touch. And his inner turmoil… it fell silent…

_This_… this was what he'd wanted…

Bringing his hands up to John's arm he held it tight against his waist and gazed into his eyes, smiling softly. Such a bright blue… and the thoughtful expression faded, giving way to undisguised affection.

Captivated by the sight he breathed: "No…"

"Good," John whispered.

They fell silent, just gazing at each other a little longer until Randy finally felt sleep tug at him and welcoming the peaceful darkness that reached out to pull him in, he let himself fall. The last thing he knew was the feeling of John engulfing him completely and his bright blue eyes full of warm emotions, watching over him…

x

After a two hours sleep it was a knock on the door that disturbed their fitful slumber and calling to the visitor to wait a moment, John noticed that Randy was pleasantly unwilling to let go of him as he untangled himself from the younger man.

It was already late afternoon and the visitor turned out to be the physio therapist with a wheelchair and Randy's brand new and stylish tortoiseshell. Taking the man to the side, he explained that Randy would agree to the physio if John would do the job. A short discussion about insurance issues followed but in the end the man gave up and showed John what to do.

Although Randy's left leg had been moved by the nurses only once or twice a day, the mobility was as good as ever. But the right leg was already quite stiff and they would have some work to do on it until it could be bend at least at a 90° angle again.

Before leaving he explained how to put on the tortoiseshell and how to get into the wheelchair and although Randy kept his face blank and didn't say a word of displeasure, John saw in those by now very well-known and clear grey eyes that the younger man would rather have told the man to fuck off.

After the physio therapist had left the room, John kneeled down in front of his friend who was still sitting in the wheelchair. Randy's eyes were fixed on his legs and his hands were gripping the armrests in a vice-grip and John settled his hands on them, smoothing over them to loosen their tight grip a bit.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

Randy blinked a few times and John felt the tension in the younger man's hands fade somewhat.

"I… don't know… the tortoiseshell is a bit uncomfortable," Randy whispered, narrowing his eyes slightly. "But I feel good… I guess…"

"See? Now, we still haven't eaten the salad. How about having the dinner in the hospital park?"

Randy's head snapped up at the suggestion and he shook his head no, eyes gone from narrowed to wide in a split second.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, I…"

But the older man hushed him with a light squeeze of his hand.

"Oh, but _I_ think it's a good idea," John said decidedly, fishing for the bag with the salad to place it on Randy's lap. "The past weeks you haven't left this room except for a checkup or an X-ray. You need to get out of here for a while. The weather is great and a bit of sunshine might help to make you feel better. And I promise to bite anyone who tries to come near you away. Okay?"

He straightened up and walked around the wheelchair, starting to push it towards the door and as they left the room, there was a muttered _okay, mom_ that brought a smile to his lips. And maybe the fresh air and the sun would really help to lighten their mood a little…

Not even ten minutes later they were sitting in the sun and having their salad. The hospital park was nice and green with a big lawn and a few trees and park benches but the moment they had stepped into the park Randy had demanded a place in the sun and since all the benches in the sun were already occupied, they ended up in the middle of the lawn. They were eating in companionable silence and here and there John looked up to his friend, finding him with his eyes closed and his head tilted back a bit while the sun shone down on him. A content little smile graced the handsome face and it brought a smile of his own to John's face, bright enough to bring up the dimples.

"Feeling good?" John asked, his smile showing in his voice.

"Yeaaaah…" Randy sighed.

"See? I told you, Ran."

"Yeah, you did," the younger man said, sounding almost… happy. "Thanks, Johnny."

Randy opened his eyes and gazed into the blue sky for a moment and the sun refracted in his eyes, making them sparkle like liquid silver. The sight made John pause, fork half-way up to his mouth, sinking back down while he beheld this image, trying to remember it for eternity. With another sigh Randy let his eyes sweep down to John and the smile on his face lightened up as he saw the dimples.

"Haven't seen those in a while," he said quietly, hinting at the dimples. "I missed them…"

Swallowing hard, John willed himself not to avert his eyes in slight embarrassment. Randy was… he was mind-numbing beautiful this very moment, smiling in contentment… and those _eyes_… his handsome features highlighted by the golden sunshine and then he had to say that he missed John's dimples…

It was a picture perfect moment…

And then John's cell beeped and the small sound shattered this perfect moment. Randy blinked twice and sighed, directing his attention back on the remains of his salad, while John cursed under his breath, fishing for his cell and thinking that he might kill Phil for disturbing their moment, he flipped the cell open. He stared at the screen. He blinked slowly. And then he stared a little more. And _then_ he bit back a loud laughter. Now, after all the time… he had long filed his attempt under definitely a flop.

_Okay, John, I agree. Randy can see Alanna. We are around by chance and I guess you're with him, so we're on our way and we'll be there in about five minutes._

John's gaze flicked from the screen up to Randy, who was busy with his salad, back to the screen and he started to type his answer.

_We're in the hospital park on the lawn, you can't miss us._

He hit the send-button and tucked it away, pondering on if he should tell his friend the news or if he should make it a surprise. He opted for the surprise and continued to eat, silently counting down the minutes…

Sam wasn't a kind woman, but she was definitely on time. Five minutes later she came walking out of the building with Alanna on her arms, searching the area. Randy sat sideways to them, not noticing anything. Not even as John straightened up a bit. And then Sam saw them, setting Alanna down, pointing on them. Alanna seemed to hesitate a moment, before she realized that it was her dad and with a high pitched squeak she ran towards them. And Randy still didn't notice anything.

"Ran?" John said, nudging his arm and taking the salad away from his legs because those would going to be needed soon.

Randy looked at him in question.

"Yeah?"

"There is someone who's very happy to see you," the older man replied softly, pointing over to Alanna.

His friend's eyes flicked over and it took him a moment to realize who was running towards them. John could see the very second it sunk in. Straightening up a bit, Randy tilted his head slightly to the side. His breathing accelerated and his hands grabbed the armrests. There was a whisper and again, becoming louder.

"Ally?" Randy said unbelieving and he pushed himself a bit out of the wheelchair. "Ally!"

He repeated the name over and over again, pushing himself further up, leaning over as if he wanted to stand up and meet her half-way and maybe it was what he wanted to do… and he would have fallen out of the wheelchair if it hadn't been for John who was up in a blink, holding him back.

"Careful, Randy, you'll hurt yourself!" he warned but his friend didn't hear him, still calling for his girl.

And then Alanna was there, squeaking and jumping onto Randy's lap and right into her dad's arms…

If John's and Randy's moment had been picture perfect, then there were no words in the world to describe this moment now. Alanna had her little arms wrapped around Randy's neck and her laughter was as bright as the sun. And Randy… he held her pressed against his chest, clinging to her little body. His face was buried against her little shoulder but John saw by the slight shaking of his shoulders that he was crying… tears of joy… It was like they were surrounded by a bubble of pure happiness…

After a long moment Randy pulled back a bit, wiping his face dry, before placing a loving kiss to Alanna's forehead. Her answer was a giggle, but then her expression changed to miffed and she gave him a slap on the shoulder.

"Where have you been, daddy?" she asked and sounded as miffed as she looked, but in that smurfette-like voice of hers even that sounded cute. "Mom said you left us. That's not nice, daddy."

John saw shock and sadness glint in Randy's eyes at her words. It hurt John to see it and he wanted to turn around and ask Sam, who had just joined them, if she was happy with what she had caused, but he didn't and bit his tongue instead. Randy hesitated, probably because he had no idea what to tell her. Trying to help him out, John kneeled beside the wheelchair and put on a smile.

"No, honey, he didn't leave you," he explained softly. "Yoru daddy's very ill, that's why he's here, you know?"

She blinked and the pout on her face was replaced by a happy grin and then she kissed Randy on the cheek.

"Gonna make you well, daddy!"

John envied her for her childish carefreeness. She couldn't grasp how severed the situation for her dad was. The only important thing for her was that her dad hadn't left her. And again there were tears welling up in the younger man's eyes but he managed a smile for her.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he whispered and pulled her back against his chest, while his gaze flicked to Sam, before asking: "Why now, Sam?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders and she didn't look the least bit concerned as she watched the scene.

"You can thank John. He… asked me," she explained casually.

His gaze swept from Sam to John, a surprised and confused expression spreading on his face and John cocked his head a bit, giving him a lopsided smile.

"Thought seeing your little girl might help to make you feel better…" John murmured, winking at him and he straightened up, watching Randy mouth a _thank_ _you_, before he turned his attention back to his daughter.

John stepped back from the wheelchair, enjoying the sight of Randy being in full daddy-mode. Then he felt a tug at his shirt and looked at Sam, who motioned him to follow her a bit to the side and more or less happy about it, he did follow her.

Looking at her in question he asked, as neutral as possible: "What is it?"

She looked him over and pursed her lips, before asking back: "What is the deal for you, John?"

John hesitated, arching an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, John, all the things you do for him… I just wonder why. No one would do what you do without getting something out of it. So I ask you once more: what is the deal for you?"

Huffing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman wasn't becoming any more likeable…

"You know, Sam, he's my friend and my deal is to get him out of this alive and if not, to get him through this shit the best possible way," he explained clipped.

Loud laughter caught his attention and as he looked over to Randy and Alanna, he saw the younger man laugh, full of joy and it warmed John's heart yet made it ache, because he knew this joyful laughter would end the moment Alanna would go home.

"You know, the evening you came to me and reeled your speech… I don't know, somehow I can't get rid of the feeling that your motivation isn't _just friendship_," she said slowly and he gazed back at her at the strange implying tone, being greeted by a stony and angry mask. "I'm his wife, Cena. You shouldn't forget that."

Shifting his stance a bit, he crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head slightly to the side and narrowed his eyes. No, she wasn't the least bit likeable.

"I haven't seen you being his wife lately," he shot back and he saw his comment hit home.

"Yeah, because he did everything to drive me away, Cena."

"Oh come on, that's a poor excuse for what _you_ did, Sam, so stop that shit!" John growled and took a step towards her and although she flinched, she didn't back away. "He never intended to drive you away and since you claim to be his _wife_ you should _know_ that. But _you_ _abandoned _him!"

John closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to calm down, before he met her glaring stare again.

"Look at him," he demanded, repeating his words more insistently when she didn't. "_Look at him._"

Tightening her lips to a thin line she let her eyes sweep over to Randy.

"A few weeks ago it wasn't even possible to say _a word_ to him without risking a black eye," John hissed, watching her face carefully. "He came here with a headache and the medics told him that he's critically ill and that he…"

John choked on the words, trying to get them over his lips. It wasn't getting the merest bit easier, no matter how often he said them.

"That he'll probably die," he completed his sentence. "How do you think did he feel? How he _still feels_? He's scared, Sam. He's so damn scared that he can't even believe anymore that a treatment could be a chance of healing. He's scared that if he agrees to a chemo, he'll go an agonizing way only to be told that he'll die nevertheless and that if he undergoes a surgery, he'll wake up as a living vegetable. That's what he _told_ me, _Sam_."

The combination of the lingering strain the past weeks had put on him and her behavior set hot anger free, boiling deep within him. And hate. Slowly it dawned on him that how much he hated this woman. Various expressions glinted in her eyes, still she tried to keep up her stony, angry mask but the tiniest of twitches of her eyes told him that his words reached behind that mask.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" he asked, barely able to hold his voice on level. "He obviously thinks that he'll die anyway or that something worse could happen to him and he wants to spend the remaining time as good as even possible. And the fear of all of this makes him blind for everything in his life that is worth fighting for! He needs someone who pulls him out of this hell and shows him that, dammit!"

Her mask stayed in place and her indifference made the hot anger flare up from the depth of his guts. He stared at her, gritting his teeth. And just as he thought he couldn't hate her more than he already did, she proved him wrong.

Fixing her eyes back on John's with a cold glare, she said with a voice as cold as her eyes: "He has a responsibility as a husband and a father and _he_ let _us down_, Cena."

Groaning in frustration, he tipped his head back, rubbing his hands through his face. He couldn't believe it. It was like talking to a wall and he wasn't sure if she simply didn't understand it or if she didn't _want_ to understand it, but if he had to guess he would bet she just _didn't want_ to. It was much easier to pretend Randy was the guilty part in this fucking chaos.

"Oh yeah, he has a responsibility. _For his daughter_. He made sure she has a roof over her head, that you have more than enough money for her and he wanted to be there for her, be her dad, but _you_ didn't let him!" John snapped. "And here comes the funny part, Sam, and I don't know how often I'll have to repeat it to get it into your ignorant head: it would have been _your_ responsibility to be there for _him_ all this time, to get him out of his shell. This nightmare could be a thing of the past and he could be well by now. I don't understand you, Sam. Really, I just don't get you… Randy deserves better…"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow in the most impertinent way John had ever seen. Her voice was sickly sweet as she spoke again.

"And you think _you_ are what he deserves… _John_?"

"You know what? I don't know," he replied, trying hard to calm down again but somehow it didn't work. "But I think I'm doing quite a good job here."

She huffed.

"Let me tell you what _I_ deserve, John. I deserve a man who cares for his family."

John stared at her in utter disbelief, not believing what he'd just heard. And something deep inside him snapped, setting white hot blazing rage free and he took another step towards her. This time she backed off, the mask on her face wavering, giving way to a shocked expression. Holding onto his self-control John moved away immediately. It wasn't his style to frighten people like that, but to see her shocked like this bestowed him a certain amount of satisfaction.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and barked a mirthless laugh. Faintly Alanna's crystal clear tittering and Randy's joyful laughter seeped into his mind, dimming the rage within him enough to give him the chance to calm down a bit.

"Huh… I can't believe I have to say that, but he's better off without you…" he sighed resigned, anger fading because it was lost time to make her come to her senses. "You are the victim here? Okay. You gave him up? Fine. You don't give a shit what will happen to him? Great! But don't hold Alanna away from him, okay? Look at her, she's happy being with her dad and even if you don't care about him, you should at least care about her."

With that he turned away from her, unable to stand her presence any longer and walked over to Randy and Alanna, leaving a for once speechless Sam behind. Sitting down beside the wheelchair, he watched the picture of happiness which Randy and Alanna were giving and when Alanna demanded a drive, he pushed the wheelchair over the lawn, with Alanna sitting on her dads lap, making funny car-sounds.

For an hour they left everything behind. For an hour the world was a perfect and idyllic. But reality came back when Sam interrupted their perfect world by saying that it was time to go and John watched the sadness return to the younger man's eyes. A bitter ache coiled up in John's belly.

"You coming home, daddy?" Alanna asked, standing on her dad's legs and her blond hair looked like a halo in the sunlight.

"Not… yet, sweetheart."

His words were faltering, but there was nothing else he could have said to her. To tell her that he probably wasn't coming home ever again wasn't an option… Bringing up a pout to her face again, she looked up to her mom in question.

"We'll visit your dad again soon, okay?" Sam said holding out her hands towards her daughter.

And back was the carefree grin and Alanna leaned in, kissing her dad on the cheek before Sam picked her up. Randy's hands closed around the armrests of the chair in a grip tight enough that his knuckles went white, swallowing hard.

"When, Sam?" he asked choked and she looked him over in a way that would have been offending even if he hadn't been sitting in this damn chair.

"Maybe the day after tomorrow. We'll see."

With that said she turned away and made her way towards the building. Alanna was looking over her shoulder, waving, calling a _bye_ to her dad until they stepped into the building and out of Randy's view. Silence fell for another minute or two while Randy just gazed at the door the two had vanished through. John was standing beside him, eyes fixed on his friend's sad face.

Eventually the younger man spoke again, his voice cracking: "Can we please go back to my room?"

"Sure," John replied hushed and just as he turned to step behind the chair, Randy's fingers closed around his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"Thanks, Johnny," he whispered. "Thank you so much."

John didn't say anything, just squeezed back a bit. Then Randy's fingers slipped out of his and closed around the armrest again. Their way back to the room was quiet and heavy with lingering joy yet heavy sadness, but the fact that Randy had been given the chance to see his little girl again gave John a bit of hope that _something would change_…

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Reviews, pwease? *makes puppy eyes*


	12. Chapter 12

Woohoo! Thanks for all the reviews, you made me a HAAAAPPY girl! XD

dawnieangel76: Someone has to be the scapegoat… ;D

BrightAsNight: *bows* thank you so very much, gurl! Xoxo

TerryHennings: Oh my ;3 *speechless*

LegacyChick: Thank you so much, always happy to see you dropped in. *hands a big pack of hankies*

And to everyone else who left a comment, I love you guys so much!

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The room was quiet as they sat there, Randy in his wheelchair at the window, gazing out into the fading day, and John beside him. The moment John sat down, Randy had taken hold of his hand, not saying a word, not looking at him and his hold was in a subtle way possessive. Although it wasn't really a companionable silence which was lingering between them, he was willed to grant his friend all the time he needed to come back to the here and now. To speak again.

The image of Randy, radiating purest happiness as he held Alanna in his arms, floated in his mind's eye. It had been perfect. So very perfect that it made John's heart glow with warmth and… love. And it could be perfect again if he just would give in and change his mind, goddammit. Even if it meant that Randy would go back to Sam.

After about an hour the door jumped open and the doctor came in. John glanced at his watch. It was already 8 p.m., the time he would usually go home and normally there wasn't a ward round at this time. Frowning in question he looked at the man and got a curt nod as a greeting.

With a polite smile on his face the doctor turned his attention to Randy and answered the unspoken question: "As far as the anamnestic readings say, you can go home the day after tomorrow in the morning and since I won't be at the ward tomorrow and very much likely at the time you'll be released from the hospital, I wanted to make a last check tonight. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Randy said quietly and his gaze flicked from the white-clad medic to their still joined hands, to John's face and back to the doctor.

A thoughtful expression spread on his face and he added as quietly: "Could we get a second bed? I want John to stay overnight if it's possible. _Please_?"

This took John by surprise and he stared at him pretty much puzzled, but the plea written in his eyes as he answered his stare wiped the surprise away in a blink. The doctor sighed and John was sure he would negate Randy's request, but then he began to laugh gently, shaking his head.

"You know, we usually don't have sleepovers here," he stated and turned around to the nurse at his side. "Do we have a free bed?"

She gave him an odd look and nodded slowly.

"Well then, go and get it," he told her and motioned to her to go, before he turned back to Randy and John. "I guess we can make an exception."

His eyes softened a bit as he spoke. Maybe it was because he saw a dying man when he looked at the younger man and thought that it would do no harm to grant him this wish. And although John knew that the doctor just meant well, this way to look at Randy made him somehow angry.

_Randy is still alive. Stop looking at him like he's already dead… _flashed through the older man's mind involuntary.

"I wish you all the best," he added and gave a nod, before he left the room.

For a moment they sat in silence, both staring after the man. The nurse came back with the bed, giving them the same odd look she'd given the doctor. After she had arranged the beds in the small room, she left. Again, silence fell and Randy kept his eyes fastened on their hands, very much aware of John's gaze which was directed at his eyes.

"You could simply have asked me instead of confront me with a fait accompli, you know?" John said, arching an eyebrow.

Randy's lips twitched slightly and his brows furrowed as he replied: "I know and I'm sorry. But I wasn't sure if you…"

He trailed off, sighing.

"If I would say yes?" John asked hushed, tilting his head a bit to make Randy look up, but he didn't. "Look at me, Randy."

After a brief moment of hesitation, the grey eyes swept up to John's.

"Do you really think I'd say no?"

Another sigh.

"I don't know, I… I guess… I guess no."

"See? Now, I hope you don't snore, Orton."

"Well, Sam only complained about me stealing the blanket," Randy grinned, but that grin disappeared as fast as it came. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I just don't wanna be alone, you know?"

Instead of an answer, John held his friend's hand a little tighter.

"Okay, how about we get ready for bed and watch TV and talk a little until we fall asleep?" he suggested then and cursed under his breath as he remembered his date with Phil tonight.

Digging in his pockets for his cell, he added: "Shit, I totally forgot that I invited Phil over. Let me just send him a message first…"

Busy with typing his message, John never noticed the strange glint in Randy's eyes, or the way the younger man's lips tightened to a thin line…

After John had sent his message and found a nurse to wangle two single-use toothbrushes out of her, they got ready for bed. Randy pretty much hated the fact that he needed help to get into the bed, but his arm trembled too much under the effort to push himself up and onto the mattress and so he didn't say a word when John slipped his arms around the younger man's chest, lifting him up and into the bed. After he'd tucked him in, John stripped down to his boxers and crawled under his own blanket, thinking that compared to the hospital beds Randy's sleeping comfort would increase to a maximum when he moved in the next days.

Fifteen minutes later Randy's eyes swept over to the older man, who had his eyes fixed on the TV. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man and as if it wasn't silly enough that he wanted John to stay overnight in the hospital, no, now he found himself lying here, wishing John would just crawl into bed with him, so he would be _close_.

_Goddammit…!_

He groaned quietly and John's attention snapped on him immediately and he was out of the bed and at Randy's side before the younger man could say that everything was fine. Worried baby blues searched his face.

"What's wrong?"

Dammit, why had this man to be so caring?

"I… uhm," Randy stammered, grabbling for an explanation. "My head hurts."

_Shit._

Shit, because he still had to tell John about this. And shit, because this hadn't been the way how he wanted to spill it.

"Want me to get you some painkillers?" John asked, worry still lacing his voice.

Those blue eyes, hovering above him… Randy couldn't help but stare into them. So close… Slowly he shook his head no. John searched his face a little longer, but then he straightened up, reluctantly, to go back to his own bed. And before Randy knew what he was doing, his hand closed around John's wrist, stopping him. Lying in the same bed, asking to be held… they had passed the point of awkwardness already, hadn't they? So why was he afraid to ask the older man? Just one word…

"Stay," Randy breathed.

The small word made John's heart jump in his chest and not wasting a second, he climbed under the blanket and resumed his position from earlier that day, pressed along Randy's right side with one arm under his friend's head and the other wrapped around his waist.

Randy pulled the blanket up to John's shoulder, scooted a little deeper into the embrace and settled his hand on the arm around his midsection. It had been so easy… There was a low hum from John and he caught himself as he closed his eyes and tried to _feel_ that hum. Randy blinked once. It was so unlike himself… he'd never before craved human closeness as much as he'd done over the past weeks and as a matter of fact, he'd never received as much closeness like in this time with John. Not even all those years with Sam… And the closeness John provided was so manifold and it was _addictive_.

And he still couldn't believe that John had brought him Alanna back. Randy turned his head, coming nose to nose with him. John watched him thoughtfully, yet his features were smooth and the blue eyes wore a tender gleam. This man had no idea how precious he was.

_Addictive… _

"Thank you, Johnny," he whispered. "Thank you so much for giving me my girl back…"

A smile grew on the older man's face, bright enough to bring up the dimples for the second time today.

"You're very welcome, Ran. It was good to see you this happy," John whispered back and the younger man didn't need to ask, the question _how_ was written all over his face. "About three weeks ago I made a visit at your house and talked to her. Well, at least I tried to. She wasn't very… cooperative. And I wasn't sure if she would agree, so I didn't tell you anything. It took her three weeks but at least she finally gave in, so…"

His smile dimmed and with a silent sigh John fell quiet as watched as tears began to run down Randy's face. Pulling his arm out of Randy's hold, he wiped the tears away with tender fingers, smoothing over his cheek then to linger there for a moment, before his arm resumed his place around his friend's waist and the younger man's hand settled back on it immediately.

"To hold her felt so incredibly good, I… I really thought I wouldn't be allowed to see her ever again and it hurt so damn much. I missed her so," Randy said hushed in a tearstained voice, pained yet happy. "God, Johnny, I missed my little girl so much it almost killed me. And then you…"

A small and strained laugh fell from Randy's lips and John had to restrain himself not to close the gap between them and kiss that sound away.

"I don't know how to make up to you for all you've done," Randy whispered, a shadow casting over the grey orbs. "So I guess I owe you at least the truth."

At those words John tensed involuntary. Words like this seldom meant good things to come and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Randy wanted to tell him. But Randy felt like he owed him… the truth… and John owed him to listen. And so he waited.

"John, you know that I came here back then because of a headache," Randy began and John nodded slowly, his heart starting to beat faster than it should. "My headache… it started to get worse again."

John's heart missed a beat in shock and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Pain shot through him. Randy didn't need to explain any further because it was pretty clear what that meant. The tumors were growing.

"Since…" he started but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. "Since when?"

"Six days ago."

Again John had to swallow hard against the lump that built in his throat and despite the tears which stung in his eyes he opened them again, looking into soft but sad grey orbs. Their time was limited and a suffocating fear coiled up in his chest as he once more became too aware of it.

"You should have told me sooner…" John whispered, not trusting his voice and he noticed a tickling on his face, realizing that he was… crying.

And this time it was Randy who lifted a hand to his face, wiping those tears away with gentle fingers as he replied: "I wasn't sure, Johnny. I thought... hoped, that I am wrong, but I guess I'm not. It's getting worse every day…"

"You need to do something, Ran. _Please_."

I'm too damn scared. It was what John read in his friend's features. Think of Alanna. It was what John wanted Randy to read in his own features and maybe Randy did, because the expression on his face wavered for a moment, before the younger man's brows furrowed in grief and closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against John's. Cautiously John pulled him even closer and Randy's hand settled back on the arm around his waist, holding it in a tight grip.

And while John felt numbness fill him, hoping that Randy would finally do _something_, hoping, praying that this day had given him the will to fight… Randy fought. He fought against his fears, against guilt and pain. The dimmed sound from the TV filled the room and the light coming from it painted strange pictures on the walls as they stayed like this, silent, close yet somehow alone.

And the night fell, leaving them both trapped in their own little hell.

x

Rattling sounds roused John from a deep and thankfully dreamless slumber and although he wanted to go back to sleep and forget, he was aware of the fact that it would probably be better if the nurses found him in his own bed instead entangled with Randy. But by the sounds coming through the door he had some more time before someone would come in.

Some more time. A shadow cast over John's eyes as he rolled the words on his tongue, the bitter aftertaste like a dull burning in his mouth. Some more time… His mind replayed the moment the night before when Randy told him about the increasing headache. And John still felt the numbness the shock, the fear and the pain had left behind.

Why couldn't this nightmare just find an end? Why couldn't he just wake up to a life where everything was alright?

_Please… please, Randy. Don't die on me. Don't do that…_

Their time-out in the hospital park, the moment with Alanna… it had been perfect. Randy and Alanna had been perfect. It had been how it was supposed to be, a dad and his little girl in their own little bubble of pure happiness.

A reason to live…

His eyes swept over Randy's face, beholding the peaceful sight, taking in the boyish features which so often showed up in his sleep when he wasn't being hunted by a nightmare. For a brief moment his eyes stopped at slightly parted lips, lips that looked so soft and kissable. Just one kiss. He would have given anything for just one single kiss. A kiss he would never be allowed to feel.

_What if I stole it from you…?_

His heart jumped a bit in his chest at that thought. What if he stole a kiss? Lifting his head a little, he brought his mouth close to Randy's ear, whispering his name. Once, twice and then Randy sighed softly, turning his face towards John. But he didn't wake up. And John's heart jumped again, settling for a fast and excited beating as he leant forward until his lips hovered over his friend's, only separated by a breath. Again he whispered the younger man's name. No reaction.

His eyes slipped shut as he closed the gap, placing a feather light kiss on Randy's lips. They were as soft as they looked, the forbidden touch creating an enthralling tingling and the sensation of the younger man's lips on his, even if it was barely a real kiss, had him instantly addicted.

Much too soon he pulled back, not wanting to push his luck. With another sigh Randy shifted again, turning his face against John's neck and at the same time he tightened his hold on John's arm around his waist. John hadn't changed his position the whole night through. His arm under Randy's head had long gone to sleep, his shoulder was stiff and his arm around Randy's waist had also never left its place, hurting due to not being moved over hours. And Randy had kept his hold on it all the time.

"I love you, Ran…" John whispered barely audible.

A blink later Randy murmured his name, followed by a soft groan. Fearing that he'd been caught, John froze. While one of the younger man's hands stayed fixed on John's arm, the other moved up to the front of John's shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. And then Randy turned his face away from his friend's neck, the grey eyes slowly drifting open and they were so beautifully innocent as they gazed up to John.

"Hi," Randy murmured in a voice still heavy with sleep.

"Hi," John whispered back.

There was a small smile ghosting around Randy's mouth and relief flooded the older man as he realized that Randy obviously hadn't heard him.

"You're still there," he said, giving John's arm a light squeeze.

Smiling back, John replied: "Where else should I be?"

The smile on the younger man's lips grew a bit.

"In your own bed?"

"You want me to go?"

Grey eyes searched John's face, before he felt a slight tug at his shirt, pulling him ever so slightly closer. The smile dimmed a bit.

"No, Johnny."

_Johnny…_

Randy had started to call him that yesterday and somehow it felt like they had just managed another step in their relationship. Sunny warmth spread in John's chest and his hold on his friend tightened involuntary. Gently pulling his arms out from under his friend's head, John bit back the wince as needles and pins stung in the anemic limb and propping up on the elbow, he let his fingertips brush over the short hair.

"How's the head, Ran?"

The twinkle in the grey eyes at the mention of this new term of endearment didn't escape his notice. It was replaced by a soft expression in a heartbeat.

"It hurts," Randy admitted very quietly, his eyes never leaving John's.

With a heavy sigh John rested his forehead against his friend's, wishing he could take the pain away from him. Hell, he would even take those fucking tumors for him if he could. And he wished Randy would finally come to his senses and accept a treatment.

"I know that you're afraid. I'm too, Ran…" John whispered and felt a suspicious burning in his throat, in his eyes as he continued. "And I wished I could change places with you, but I can't… And Alanna, _she needs you_… Please, _please_ let the doctors help you…"

He heard Randy take a deep breath at his words and he heard his name being whispered again. It was the only responds he got and it could have meant everything and nothing. For a second John fought with himself if he should just push, dig, urge a little more because this very moment it felt like maybe, just maybe was on the verge to agreeing.

But just then he heard the sounds on the outside of the room getting louder, heard footsteps approach their room and he felt Randy flinch and pull away a bit. The hand on his arm vanished and the fingers which clutched his shirt loosened. The spell was broken and he knew, as much as he wanted to stay in this bed, that it was time to get out. So he untangled himself from the younger man and slipped out of the bed.

"_Please think about it_," he said, seeking the grey eyes once more and there was something in them… but maybe he was only imagining it…

That very moment he sat down on his own bed the door opened and a doctor came in for the morning visit, accompanied by two nurses. Randy didn't say a word about the headache or a treatment. In fact he didn't say anything at all. He just lay there, silent, letting the man do his job.

Not able to stand it any longer John went to the bathroom, swallowing hard on the bitter taste of lost hope and with closing the bathroom door behind him, he tried to shut out that very silence…

Not even five minutes later he heard the doctor and the nurses leave again. He rinsed his mouth, washing away the last bits of toothpaste foam, splashed some cold water onto his face and braced on the sink, staring into the mirror. The man who stared back at him looked defeated. John sighed and hung his head. The moment he got himself into this, he'd thought he would be stronger or rather that it would take longer until he would reach the point he had already reached by now. Being exhausted, desperate, defeated… helpless… so very much that there were moments he wasn't sure how to carry on. And he would have passed that point probably much sooner if it wasn't for Phil. John wasn't regretting his decision though, not the least bit. If time would be turned back to that point, his decision would be the same…

With another sigh he straightened up, squared his shoulders and tried to wipe the defeated expression off his face. It worked more or less, but enough to make sure Randy wouldn't notice. And so he walked back to Randy, who surprised John by sitting on the edge of the bed, his left leg dangling from it while the right one rested on the wheelchair. He smiled at John and John couldn't help but smile back, glad that Randy finally wanted to do something else than just sitting in his bed. John sat down close beside the younger man, shoulders bumping lightly.

"Good to see you try to move on your own," John said quietly, nudging him gently.

Nodding slightly Randy replied: "Yeah, well, I thought it would do no harm if I tried it."

Randy gave John a lopsided smile and nudged him back.

"Wanna go to the bathroom?" John wanted to know. "We've got about twenty minutes left until breakfast will be brought."

Again the younger man nodded and John got up from his place to arrange the wheelchair.

"Uhm… I… uhm… would like to take a shower…" Randy began slowly and John looked up.

"Okay, sure," the older man said, slipping his arms around his friend's upper body to lift him into the wheelchair and Randy's arms locked around his neck immediately, holding onto him tightly.

Cautiously John sat him down, adding as he drew back: "But the nurses are busy now, guess you'll have to…"

He stopped midsentence as Randy didn't let go, instead pulling him back in.

"I… uhm… I thought that maybe you could help me… with the shower…" Randy said in a small voice, very hesitantly and very close to his ear.

John's breath caught in his throat and he knelt down in front of the chair to get the strain off his back, glad that Randy couldn't see the furious blush that right now spread over his face. There _was_ a chance though that he felt the burning heat that came with the blush. Gingerly he braced on the armrest as he felt the hold on his neck become even tighter and he realized that Randy very much likely held him like this to hide a blush of his own.

_Ah, hell… why am I acting like a giddy schoolgirl here? I've seen him naked often enough…_

Willing the blush on his face to vanish into thin air, he lifted his hands to Randy's arms and peeled them off his neck. Not without a slight resistance from the younger man though and leaning back enough to see Randy's face he noticed that, yes, there was still a faint red tingeing his friend's cheeks. The grey eyes were fixed on a random spot on the floor.

"Eyes on me," he demanded softly and after a moment Randy did look up, nervousness spreading all over his face. "It's okay, Ran. If you want me to help you, then we're gonna have shower now."

Another five minutes later Randy had made his morning routine in the bathroom and good god, John was glad that Randy managed to do the toilet-thing on his own because _that_ was something they both didn't want to think about.

And so, shortly after, they were in the shower and he helped the younger man onto the chair in the shower, helped him get out of his clothes and then got rid of his own clothes. Randy was still looking nervous. Understandable. The position he was in wasn't a pleasant one, being dependent on the help of other people. Like now, sitting naked on this chair because he yet needed help with a _simple shower_ and it doubtlessly wasn't making it any better that this help consisted of an also stark naked man. No matter if he'd asked John for help or not. But John had no spare clothes here, so… naked time. He sighed silently. It sure would get better gradually, when the younger man's left arm would gain the strength it once had, when he arranged himself with the situation. Provided that there was enough time left…

"Tell me if it's too cold or too hot," John said as he opened the faucet and Randy hummed as the nicely warm water rained down on him.

After a moment John closed the faucet again, poured some shower-gel on his hand and handed the bottle to Randy. Kneeling down on front of his friend, John began to wash his feet and legs, keeping more than a safe distance to the more private area. He could tell that it made feel Randy uncomfortable to have someone wash his feet and really, it was strange for John, too, but he pushed that thought aside and just did it.

His task on Randy's legs finished, he got up and moved around him. The room was quiet but for the sound of dripping water as he spread gel on Randy's shoulders and over his back, noticing how tense the muscles under his fingers felt and tentatively he began a light massage. For a brief moment Randy stiffened, pausing his own movements, before he exhaled audibly and continued to soap himself, tension fading a little again.

Involuntary Randy leaned back into the touch as John's hands did their magic. The long time he had been confined to the bed had made his whole body ache… well, the parts he still felt. A heavy sigh, bordering on a low groan, dropped from his lips as John let his fingers trail from his shoulders to his lower back in one straight movement and with just the right pressure. God, this felt heavenly…

"Did you talk to the doctor?" John asked into the quietness.

He knew John would ask this, still he asked back: "What do you mean?"

Running his hands over the heavily inked shoulders John said: "The headache."

Randy's movements slowed down a bit and shook his head no.

"What for? He would have suggested a CT, only to tell me what I already know," Randy muttered.

It wasn't surprising John that he hadn't, still he'd hoped he would.

"Think of Alanna," John said quietly, insistently.

"I think of her every day, John. And seeing on the screen what I feel in my head anyway doesn't change anything."

"You know what I mean, Randy…" John uttered.

Keeping quiet for a few seconds Randy eventually whispered: "Yeah…"

"Please, Ran… don't give yourself up," John whispered back, begging. "_You need to fight._"

"Johnny, I… please, don't…"

Randy didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to anyway. John knew what he wanted to say. Johnny, I can't. I'm afraid. Please don't push me, it won't change anything.

After all that John had tried to change his mind. After Randy finally had seen his little girl again. She had been John's last hope…

The hope that Randy would start to fight for his life, that tiny bit of hope he'd harbored, nourished… cracked… and broke. Just… like that. And unseen by Randy the older man closed his eyes tightly, pressed his lips to a thin line against the searing pain in his chest and willed the rising tears not to fall but it didn't work. Tears ran down his face and his throat began to burn due to biting back the sobs. He couldn't break down, not now, not when Randy was with him.

After a short moment Randy turned his head a little to the side when there was no reaction from John and asked: "John? You alright?"

There was guilt in the low rumble of the younger man's voice. John had to swallow hard on the mirthless laughter that wanted to escape his throat at the question. Yeah, he felt _splendid_. His hands stilled and Randy reached up to settle a hand on John's and John… he wanted to hold it and never let go… but if he would have done it that very moment, taking Randy's hand… he probably really wouldn't have been able to let him go again…

"John?"

The older man slipped his hand out from under Randy's and continued to work on his friend's shoulders, taking a few deep but quiet breaths to calm down. He had to, somehow…

"I'm fine," he muttered, not trusting his voice.

"Johnny…"

"No, really, I'm fine," he repeated tersely.

The younger man's hand sunk back down at the curt reply and came to rest on John's calf as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn't go away. They fell silent again while John kept on massaging the bit by bit relaxing muscles until they were soft under his touch. He continued to smooth over the soft skin a while longer, not wanting to lose this feeling. But eventually he had to stop. John soaped himself and turned the water back on.

Steam rose around them, cocooning them… Randy closed his eyes as John's fingers settled back on his shoulders and trailed slowly over his skin, washing away the foam and absentmindedly he leaned back against John's stomach. He only realized what he was doing when John froze.

"I'm sorry," he muttered and wanted to lean forward again, but John's stopped him, holding him against his body.

"You forgot to wash your hair," John said quietly and got himself some shampoo. "Let me… do this..."

If Randy's decision was final, then he wanted to have as much of the man he loved as he could get. Feel him as long as he could. And if Randy willingly was granting him that, he would take it. His fingers laced into his friend's hair, combing through it, massaging his scalp and he felt Randy lean heavily against him, relaxing completely. His movements became caresses and his reward was a low groan from Randy and he focused on him, pushing reality aside.

"Feels good, Johnny," Randy sighed, his headache fading into the background a bit.

They had grown so much closer than friends. _This now_… it wasn't something you would do with a friend…

_What are we, Johnny?_

Tipping his head back a bit, he looked up to his friend, seeking the baby blues. They were dimmed, as if John was somewhere else in his mind and there was no need to guess… Randy was aware that John's mood had changed after he hadn't given in to John's plea to fight…

"The doc said that I can go home tomorrow."

John blinked once, returning to the here and now and although his eyes didn't look dimmed anymore, there was still a shadow lying in their depths.

"Sorry, what did you say?" John asked, his fingers slowing down, wiping some foam from Randy's forehead.

"The doc said that I can home tomorrow," Randy repeated, furrowing his brows in worry.

John frowned and indicated him to close his eyes. Opening the faucet, he rinsed the shampoo out of the short hair. When he turned the water off, the grey eyes opened immediately and locked gazes with him again.

"Where have you been, Johnny?"

"What?"

"You looked like you're somewhere else up here…" Randy said and hinted at his head, while his other hand smoothed over John's calf.

"Uhm… I just…" John started, but shrugged it off then, trying himself on a smile. "Doesn't matter. So, you can go home? That's great."

"Yeah, it is," the younger man replied reluctantly, not buying the smile. "John, your offer about your guestroom… we haven't talked about it ever since."

Fishing for a towel, John broadened his smile and this time it was a real one.

"There was no need to," he stated. "Your room is already waiting for you, with a big and comfy bed, your own TV and a X-Box and…"

John trailed off as he saw a strange glint in the grey eyes and it was now that he noticed Randy's hand that was still smoothing up and down his calf. Savoring his friend's tender touch, he cocked his head in question as Randy began to gnaw at his bottom lip. Gently he began to dry his friend's hair.

"Where's your room?"

"It's right beside yours," the older man murmured. "Why?"

The gnawing on his lip became more nervous and the smoothing movement on John's leg stopped.

"I know it's silly but… I don't know, I just feel better knowing that you're… close..." Randy explained, his last words a mere whisper.

Those words should have given him a good feeling, but instead they brought the searing pain back he'd managed to hold at bay for the past minutes and flared up full force again, roaring, devouring. This time John couldn't hold back a sob. The towel slipped out of his fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud. They had become so close over the past weeks, _so very close_ that it almost felt like they were an item and Randy loved his little girl so damn much. So why? Why did Randy refuse to fight…? His attempt to be strong failed and he… broke down…

With a hoarse _Randy, please_ he sank down until his knees hit the tiled floor, his hands seeking hold on the younger man's waist and with a shuddering breath he rested his forehead between Randy's shoulder blades.

"I don't know how to go on when you're... when you're not here anymore," he pressed out hoarsely between shaky sobs, not caring how it might sound to Randy, if he probably revealed his feelings for him with those words. "I can't bear the thought… Please don't die, Ran… please, don't… please…"

John's sudden breakdown left Randy shaken to the core. For long seconds he wasn't able to move, not even to breathe, the cold shock leaving him paralyzed. All he could do was staring straight ahead, eyes wide, mouth opened to say words which never left his lips. All he felt was John's trembling touch and all he heard was his pained sobs and those sobs made him move again and he whispered his friend's name, wanting to turn around to John but he was stopped as the hands on his waist tightened their hold. There was a choked _no_ as he tried it again and in a vain attempt to give comfort he laid his hands on John's, staying like this for minutes, waiting…

Through the uproar of all those whirling thoughts and the current of his emotional breakdown there was a small voice calling for John to stop the tears and get back on his feet. And he clung to that small voice before it drowned again. Taking shaky but deep breaths, he fought the tears back and pulled his hands out from under Randy's and slowly he straightened up, coming to stand on trembling legs.

Faintly he heard Randy say his name again and as faintly he heard himself saying that he was fine… that he was sorry for those last minutes. That there was no need to worry… It was okay. And Randy wanted turn around to him again, speaking soothing words, apologizing and again John stopped him, repeating again and again that he was fine, that it was okay and it was a damn lie. And he knew that Randy knew. It couldn't have been more obvious. But eventually Randy fell silent, sitting slightly hunched over and when John handed him a towel, he clasped the fabric tightly… and his mind focused on John's unsteady breathing…

A while later they sat at the small table of Randy's room and although Randy tried his best to get a conversation going, it was more than obvious that John had to force himself to bring any words over his lips. His voice was hollow, lost. Defeated. After a few awkward minutes they fell silent and it left the breakfast awfully quiet and strained. With heavy guilt weighing down on him, Randy watched John sip his coffee absentmindedly as he stared at his plate that sat untouched on the table. John's right hand clutched the mug hard enough that the knuckle went white, while his left hand rested lifelessly on the table, close to Randy's right one. Not very much hungry himself, Randy poked in his cereals, but willed himself to eat at least half of it.

John didn't notice Randy's eyes on him. This was all so wrong, so damn wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like that… He felt numb, yet there was a paralyzing pain that lingered, devouring him and he was tired, so very tired… and more than ever he wished, prayed that this was just a bad dream. His hand free hand balled to a fist and he closed his eyes against the hot tears which stung again in his eyes. He flinchend slightly as he felt Randy's hand blanketing his gingerly, but then he relaxed his hand and allowed his friend to intertwine their fingers.

He wanted, really wanted to crawl out of this hole his breakdown had left him in, but right now he couldn't find the strength. Since he'd left his place yesterday morning there hadn't been a moment to _breathe_. That, combined with the certainty that all hoping was futile, had been the last straw. And it gave him the slight idea how it would be when Randy would come home with him.

Still… he didn't regret it.

Randy had sounded so final, although he hadn't really spoken out what was written between the lines. The fact that Randy hadn't talked to the doctor about a treatment, not even after Alanna's visit yesterday, made it feel even more final. Shouldn't it have been the first thing to do for him after seeing his girl? Fight? For her?

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow he would be allowed to take him home, until… it… John had promised to be there, be at his side until the very last moment and so he sat here, trying, fighting with himself to summon a strength he did not have to keep his promise. At least it was how it felt this very moment…

It was how they kept sitting for long minutes, even as a nurse came in to get the dishes. Eventually Randy couldn't stand the suffocating atmosphere in this small room any longer and as he asked John for a walk in the hospital park, his own voice sounded guilty and small to his own years. John gave him a smile as he got up to fulfill the younger man's request, but that smile never reached his eyes…

And so they were now crossing the lawn. The day was as sunlit as the day before with a bright blue sky that reminded Randy of John's eyes… like they had been in the beginning… John stopped and put on the brakes as they reached the spot where they had been sitting the day before. Then he moved around the chair, folding the left foot rest out of the way to sit in front of the chair with his back to Randy and cautiously he rested the younger man's left thigh on his shoulder, holding onto the lower leg. There was a touch on his right shoulder. Randy's hand.

"Passably comfy down there?" he asked and John sighed a _yeah_.

His hand lingered a while on the broad shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth in an attempt to give at least a bit of comfort, because although John had managed to gather his self-composure and pretended now that he was alright… he wasn't. He was far from alright and Randy knew it. He saw it in those blue orbs, read it in the defeated features, heard it in his voice that sounded hollow since the moment in the shower. John's breakdown… it had shocked him, so very much… John had cried before… he had tried to convince him of a treatment, even begged him to change his mind… but _this_… It hurt so damn much that he caused John this pain.

Over the time their relationship had changed, from giving a friendship a try to being friends, to becoming close friends. Very close friends. All of in in a little over four weeks. And why? Because this was John, who fought for getting through his well-built defenses even though he had been pushed away by words, even bodily… who gave his career up for a man who'd given _himself_ up long ago… who put in everything he had to give… and more… just like that. John, who was being there, no matter what happened… unconditionally… for him…

For the probably first time in… Randy had no idea in how many years… he wasn't the one who had to be strong. Like in his time with Sam, when he had to be the one to protect her, being the perfect husband. Now he was the one who needed someone at his side, someone who held him up… gave him… hope… and it had been John who caught him, stopped his fall.

And now he'd even given him Alanna back… He still couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that Alanna was part of his life again…

All this time the mere thought of undergoing a treatment, of what could happen if he did, scared him to such an extent that it never had been an option. Less than ever after Sam and his parents had given up on him because they couldn't understand him. And then John came along.

Something between him and John had… shifted and it felt strange, yet good, right. He'd never imagined that he would, could allow another man being so very close like John was, not only emotionally, no, even bodily. And whatever it was that had shifted, he needed it. Him. Randy closed his eyes and focused on the tiny movement of John's shoulder under his hand as he breathed, on the warmth against his palm… feeling that _he was_ _there_.

And for the first time since the diagnosis, the future wasn't scaring him as much as it had all those weeks and months, because he wasn't _alone_ anymore… and he… Randy's heart lurched in his chest as a sudden realization brought with a breathtaking, unspoken epiphany. For the first time since his life had come apart at the seams he… wanted to live, at all costs… for Alanna and… and for John…

Randy swallowed hard and his fingers dug into the thick muscles of his friend's shoulder. He could have spared John so much pain if he'd only realized it sooner… a single, breathless laugh fell from his lips and at the odd sound he felt John tense a bit. He needed to tell him, but…

„Johnny… I… there is something important…"

Randy's voice was very quiet as he spoke and hesitant, shaky yet insistent and it created an uneasy feeling in the pit of John's stomach. He felt his friend shift a bit and the hand on his shoulder slid down, stopping right above his heart and then Randy rested his head against John's. Settling his right hand over Randy's, he held it tight as if he could fend the uneasy feeling off this way.

Closing his eyes, bracing against what might come, he said hushed: "Tell me, Ran…"

John heard him take a few deep breaths and for a long moment there was no answer, but then…

"I know you said it over and over again in the past, but…" Randy began but he halted midsentence, again taking a few deep breaths before continuing. "No matter what I say or do, no matter what happens, now or in the future… promise that you never leave me… Please, Johnny… I need you to promise…"

Swallowing hard John let his hand run up Randy's arm, settling on the younger man's nape with a tender hold and in response he felt Randy bury his fingers in the front of John's shirt. The uneasy feeling flared to full grown fear at his friend's plea.

"I promise, Ran. No matter what will happen, I'm not gonna leave you. Never. You hear me? _Never_."

A shaky sigh. Warm breath fanned over his neck… and then something warm dropped on his skin. And again. A tearstained _Johnny_ was breathed and John wanted to turn around and hold him, so very much. His heart screamed at him to do something, but… as he wanted to turn around there was a whispered _no_. And so he waited. There was something Randy wanted to tell him and he hadn't said it yet. But he would and willing himself to stay where he was, John gave Randy the time to gather enough self-control and it was after a minute or two that Randy seemed to have calmed down enough to continue.

"Johnny, I… I'm gonna ask the doc… for a surgery."

The words were spoken barely audible yet John heard them very clearly. It took those words a few seconds to sink into John's unbelieving mind… but eventually they _did_ sink in. His eyes flew wide open. His heart stumbled in his chest and missed a beat… For a moment he tried hard to remember how to breathe…

_Oh please, god…_

Again Randy said his name hushed, nervous… a little scared, too, as John didn't react. Very slowly he set Randy's leg down and drew his hand back from Randy's nape, before he turned around, kneeling between his friend's legs. His still wide eyes searched Randy's face, taking in the scared expression there, his still glassy but so very soft eyes _and he prayed_…

"Say that again," John said hoarsely, pleading, begging… still not believing… and his hands came up to his friend's face, framing it. "Please, say it again…"

Randy hesitated, lips pressed tightly to a thin line, nostrils flaring… and this hesitation made it hard to breathe for the older man, making his heart clench painfully out of fear Randy hadn't said those words. But it couldn't be… _it couldn't_, he had heard them clearly… Randy's eyes never left his and then his hand came up to fist into John's shirt while his other moved to cup John's cheek. The tension in his features faded and although the scared expression didn't vanish completely, his face became as soft as his eyes were.

There was the shadow of a smile on his lips as he spoke again: "I'm gonna do the surgery, Johnny."


	13. Chapter 13

Hi! Soooo… here's part 13 and we're still on our journey for a while ;-)

I'm sorry it took me so long to post this but I haven't had much time lately. To be precise, I had practically no time. So I'm glad you came back for some more.

I love you guys for all the feedback! I love any feedback, no matter what you opinion is, so: review, send PM's and make me a happy girl XD

But somehow I feel like I need to give an explanation though, you know, why Randy is the way he is in this story. My Randy in this story changes to a very emotional and maybe also emotional instable person and sometimes he might not seem very _manly_. I know that he is being described as dominant and demanding in most of the stories around here and it definitely fits but out of personal experience with a dying person he is like he is in Angel on your shoulder.

Over the last years there were two people in my life who were diagnosed nasty diseases. One of them died, the other survived. The one who survived never became the person he was before the diagnosis. And both were strong, more or less reserved, demanding persons and had a sometimes difficult personality. I was at their side after the diagnosis and let's make it short, the way Randy changes in this story describes how I saw those two change.

I had to get this off my heart and I hope you don't mind. Maybe it helps understand why I write this story like it is.

Enough of the teary personal stuff now ;-)

Go ahead and enjoy!

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The world around them fell silent. All there was were his words, his eyes, his warm skin under John's touch and a small sound fell from John's lips, barely a shaky breath… _Ran_… and that small sound brought hope with, bright and golden and so real, so very real. John blinked a few times as his vision blurred, blinking away the tears and he felt them trail down his cheeks, but he couldn't have cared less.

Randy wanted to fight…

That smile on Randy's lips was still there as he wiped the tears away from John's face with the tenderest of touches, as he said his name as tender as his touch was.

"Oh god, Randy," John whispered, smoothing his hands over Randy's cheeks, over the short hair and one arm wrapped around his neck while the other circled the slim waist, pulling Randy close to bury his face in the crook of the younger man's neck. "Randy…"

A wave of relieve and hope, of joy, thankfulness and love surged through him, breaking down all the fear, desperation and helplessness, all the bad feelings and everything the past weeks had caused, washing it away and he cried hot tears and breathless sobs tore from his throat as he clung to his friend. And with a shaky sigh the younger man wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders, nuzzling his cheek against the blond hair. Although he knew the tears falling from John's eyes were tears of relieve, just like the ones now running down his own face, there was a small ache within his chest to see him like this, yet he couldn't help but smile because…

"Everything's going to be alright, Johnny," he whispered against the short hair.

He felt John tighten his embrace, so very much that there was not even a breath left between their bodies and holding him this close the older man sat back on his calves, pulling him with him until he was straddling John's legs. The people around were watching them, some of them even pointing over to them but he didn't care.

"Why?"

The word fell from John's lips barely audible but Randy heard it nevertheless.

Bringing his mouth closer to his friend's ear he whispered: "Because of Alanna. Because I love her and I can't leave her. And… and because of you."

The words sank into the current of John's whirling emotions and thoughts, easing it, slowing it down a bit.

_And… and because of you._

A single and choked laughter mixed into the sobs. He felt Randy's hand slip down, running soothing circles on his back and he knew it shouldn't be like this. He should be the one giving Randy comfort. And there was no reason to give comfort anyway because right now it was good. From this moment on it would be alright. Everything would be alright. Still he couldn't stop the tears from falling…

Moments passed by as they sat there, holding onto each other, even when there were no more tears left to fall and there was no need for words. Slowly the world around them came back but neither of them wanted to let go. There was the cheerful chirping of birds in the background and the warmth of the sunlight all around them. Taking a deep breath John inhaled Randy's unique scent and eventually he drew back a bit and searched the younger man's eyes. His hand brushed from Randy's neck to his cheek and with a gentle touch he thumbed the tears away. The days before had been as sunny as the day was this very moment but somehow… it felt like different. More vivid, free.

_I love you so damn much, Randy…_

And because he couldn't say those words he said the words he could: "Thank you."

Shaking his head slightly no, Randy leaned in and rested his forehead against John's and a soft laugh dropped from his lips that turned into a shaky sigh.

"No, Johnny. Thank _you_…"

They fell quiet again for long minutes and John had no idea how much time had passed when Randy eventually said that it was time to go and talk to a doc. This moment had by far not lasted long enough as they got up and left their sunny place, making their way back into the building…

Back at the ward they went straight for the nurses' station and asked for a doctor and because they were known all over the place, the nurse instantly went to call him. A medical briefing followed and although the doctor didn't tell them anything new about possible risks, John felt a strange feeling, something between the lingering joy and fear, creep down his spine. The prearrangements for the surgery would take five days.

Five days until this nightmare would finally be over.

Five days until the first day of a happy future.

Five. Days.

Back at Randy's room John closed the door quietly and watched as Randy moved the wheelchair over to the bed quite slowly, partly because of his arm, partly because the wheelchair wasn't the best one. It reminded him that they needed to get one for the moment Randy was released from hospital. When he would be allowed to go home because he was… healed. John's heart jumped happily because no matter what the doctor had told them about the risks, even that there could be a relapse… he was sure that none of it would happen. He had to believe it. After all they had been through it was only fair that everything would turn out to be a happy ending. Randy stopped at the bed and turned back to John, smiling softly at him.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said, cocking his head slightly.

_I love you, so damn much…_

John would have given anything to be allowed to just say those words but he couldn't and so he did the only thing he could do, put all the love he felt into a save disguise. And so he walked over, kneeling down in front of him and took hold of his friend's hand, while his other settled on the nape of his neck.

Resting his forehead against Randy's he said hushed: "No matter what, Ran… I'm there for you."

Randy's free hand settled on John's chest, holding onto his shirt and with a light tug he pulled him a bit closer.

"Good, because I can't do this without you," he murmured and then he sighed. "I want to go home, Johnny. With you. Please. I need a few days out of this damn hospital until we go for the next round."

Again John's heart jumped happily. Home. Randy already thought of being at John's house, being with John meant being home…

"Anything, Ran," he murmured back. "We're gonna tuck you in now so you can rest a bit and I'm gonna talk to the doc so we go home today, okay?"

And because he couldn't kiss those tempting lips, he placed the kiss close to the corner of his mouth, maybe lingering there a little longer than he should… The little touch created a strange sensation that ran down the younger man's spine and made his heart stumble a bit. And to Randy's own surprise it didn't feel _too close_. No… maybe it wasn't… close enough…? Randy's fingers released the fabric and John felt them spread until his friend's hand rested flat on his chest and for a split second he was sure Randy would push him away because he had overstepped the line. But he didn't. And ever so slightly Randy turned his face into that kiss, just a tiny bit… just close enough that he could almost feel John's lips on his… thinking that he didn't have the slightest idea why this felt right and… did it matter? No. No, it didn't matter and so he closed his eyes. And felt.

"That would be great," he whispered eventually and then he pulled back, locking gazes with the older man.

John smoothed a hand over Randy's cheek, loving the feeling of the beard stubbles against his palm and then his hand wandered down to unfasten the tortoiseshell. Randy's eyes never left his face, his hand still resting flat on John's chest. Putting the shell aside, John straightened up and noticed a tug at his shirt as his friend's fingers briefly held onto it, before Randy let his hand sink down, brushing in a light touch over John's arm and smiling to himself, John positioned the wheelchair beside the bed and put on the breaks, before he slipped an arm under his friend's arms and legs and lifted him into the bed. Then he pulled the blanket up to the younger man's chest and sat down on the mattress. And Randy did what he always did lately… he took hold of John's hand and held it tight.

"Stay until I'm asleep?"

With a smile on his lips John nodded. For silent moments they just looked at each other and as Randy's eyes slipped shut after only a minute or two, John thought that although his friend was in a better shape than it could have been expected after what had happened, even a simple thing like a trip to the hospital park was exhausting for him. Absentmindedly he watched as Randy's features relax while his thumb brushed tender circles on the back of the younger man's hand and he hoped that the doctor wouldn't insist on keeping Randy here until the surgery.

His name was mumbled, calling him out of his thoughts and he leaned a bit forward, asking hushed: "Yeah?"

"Thanks for… not giving up… on me…" Randy mumbled again, barely audible.

And while the words trailed off, swallowed by heavy sleepiness, John leaned even closer to the younger man and placed another kiss close to the corner of his mouth, receiving a tiny sigh in response. Within seconds Randy's breathing became even and shallow, telling John that his friend was already asleep. His lips still hovered over the spot where he'd placed the kiss, just close enough to keep idea of a touch and closing his eyes he mouthed the three words against the warm skin under his lips.

Eventually he pulled back, sitting up and with his eyes fixed on Randy's face he waited a little longer until he was sure that Randy was fast asleep, before he gently pulled his hand out of his hold and breathed a kiss to Randy's forehead.

"Tonight you're gonna be sleeping in your own bed. Promise," he whispered, before he left the bed and made his way to find the doctor.

On his way through the corridor he found another nurse and bugged her until she gave in and went to call the doc. And because John was determined to take Randy home until the surgery, he talked at the poor man until he gave up and signed the discharge form. Right after John went back to Randy's room, but instead of going in, he sat on the lonely chair in the corridor and retrieved his cell from a pocket, typing a short message to Sam.

_Randy's gonna undergo the surgery in five days. He's coming home with me until then. Can he see Alanna tomorrow? Gonna drop him off at your house if it's okay. John_

Sending the message he hoped Sam would agree. With a sigh he scrolled through his stored numbers, found the one he was looking for and after a moment of hesitation he hit the call button, dialing Phil's number and he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"Hello, Sunshine," Phil greeted him. "Sounds like you're still at the hospital?"

"Hey, Phil. Yeah. Yeah, I'm still at the hospital," John replied. "I, uhm… you know, I'm sorry for canceling our date. Yesterday Sam brought Alanna and after they left Randy asked me to stay because he didn't want to be alone. I'm gonna make it up to you, promise."

There was a short moment of uncomfortable silence before Phil spoke again, his tone indicating that he was miffed: "You know, I wonder if you actually still have a private life? I don't know if you remember, but that would be a life that's not completely revolving around this man?"

John winced at the tart reply and muttered: "Phil, please…"

What he meant with those two words was: Phil, come on, we had that before. And also: Phil, I'm really sorry, don't be mad. And because Phil was Phil, he got the message, sighed heavily and murmured a forgiving _Sunshine_.

"So, Alanna was there, huh? That's great and I guess it made him a very happy man?" Phil continued then, less miffed.

"Yeah, very-very happy," John said, a smile growing on his lips as he remembered Randy and Alanna together. "And… he's gonna do the surgery, Phil."

There was another moment of silence. Then a stifled cough.

And then: "Wow… Sunshine, that's… wow…"

The smile on John's lips grew wider.

"Yeah, wow. The surgery will be in five days and I'm gonna take him home until then, Phil."

There was a low chuckle on the other end on the line.

"I knew if there's anyone who could persuade this man to do the right thing then it would be you, Sunshine. You're gonna take him home today?"

"Yeah, today. Listen, I hope Sam allows him to see his girl tomorrow and I thought that you and I could hang out a bit while he's with them? And afterwards we could pick him up and have dinner at my place?"

Phil snorted and replied: "Sure thing, Sunshine. As if Randy would want to have dinner with me around."

John knew Phil had a point there and he laughed gently.

"Well, maybe you're right but he's gotta live with it because _I_ want you around. Come on, Phil. Please."

Phil heaved another heavy sigh.

"Okay, okay," he muttered and added very softly: "I hope Randy's knows that he's a very lucky man to have you. And I hope that he appreciates it. Appreciates you…"

Even through the phone Phil's voice enwrapped him like a blanket, caring and warm and like so often John marveled at it and if he had not been in love with Randy… he was sure he would have lost his heart to Phil. He had become an important part of his life and maybe he had lost his heart to him… in a way. John's eyes swept over to the door to Randy's room. Yeah, Phil had become so very important, but he loved Randy. And he was sure that he loved him, too… somehow. Even if it wasn't the kind of love John would have wanted it to be.

"I know he does," John replied as softly. "He has changed, Phil."

"Well then, I'm looking forward to meet the new Randy," Phil said, not without a bit suspicion between the lines. His voice dropped to a whisper as he added: "I know it's silly and it's been only five days and maybe I should just keep my big mouth closed but… I miss you, Sunshine. Don't get me wrong, I just, you know, miss you…uhm… Great, I'm sounding like a complete fool… Forget what I said."

Those words wiped the smile off John's face.

_Hey, everything's fine, Sunshine. I do love you but not… that way. I can control myself enough to prevent myself from falling in love with someone who already lost his heart to someone else than me._

Phil's words, spoken only a few days ago… yet John had the feeling that there was more than Phil wanted to admit… the more after what he had said now. And he sure as hell would not forget what he'd said.

"I miss you, too, Phil," he said hushed, because it was the truth and there wasn't anything else he could say, although he knew he just shouldn't say _this_. "Listen, I have to go back to Randy…"

There was a sound coming from the other end of the line, not quite a huff, not quite a sigh and it gave John once more the feeling that there was… more.

"Yeah, sure. Send me a short message when and where?"

"Yeah," John said, feeling bad about cutting his friend off. "I'm sorry, Phil."

"I know. Bye."

John whispered a _bye_ and ended the call. This was heading in a direction it wasn't supposed to and wasn't it his own fault? It was… He had started it, had crossed the line and he knew he should stop it. But… he couldn't, not now. Not… yet…

It took him a moment to realize that his cell was ringing. Absentmindedly he glanced on the screen and blinked a few times, coming back to the here and now as he saw the caller ID. Flipping the device open he answered the call.

"Hello, Sam."

The first thing he heard was a huff and then: "You gotta be kidding me, Cena? A surgery? Why should he suddenly want a surgery?"

_Oh, great, always the kind and likeable woman, are we?_ he thought, shaking his head.

"I don't think the details are important right now, are they? What counts is that he _wants_ the surgery. Shouldn't you be happy to hear that?"

Another huff.

"I'm gonna believe it after he went through with it."

Lost time. Definitely lost time. The last times he tried to talk some sense into her failed and he should probably stop trying it again and again.

Sighing John wiped a hand down his face and said: "Whatever. Now, what about Alanna?"

"Yeah, okay. Be there around 1 p.m.," she replied clipped before adding much softer: "Oh and Cena? Thanks for the info."

The line fell quiet. He took the cell away from his ear and stared at it. An almost nice thank you? Now, that had been surprising. Well, wait and see how she would be tomorrow, nice or… Sam. Quickly sending a short message to Phil to meet him at the city park around 1:30 p.m., he stuffed his cell away and went back into Randy's room, because it was time and he had to pack his friend's things up.

Randy was still asleep and after just gazing at his peaceful face for a minute or two, John started to get Randy's things, tip-toeing around the room so as not to wake him. Having everything packed up, he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Taking hold of Randy's hand he leaned forward, resting his free hand on the younger man's cheek and said hushed: "Randy? Come on, wake up."

He waited a moment and called his name again, a little louder this time and just when he thought that Randy wouldn't wake up, the grey eyes slowly opened, blinking dozily.

"It's time to go home, Ran."

The younger man blinked a few more times until the information sank in.

"Really?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Really," John confirmed. "Already got your things packed up. So? Ready to go?"

Randy's smile became a happy grin and he whispered an equally happy _yeah_ as he pushed himself into a sitting position, letting John help him get into the wheelchair… to go home.

Not even ten minutes later they sat in John's car. Their ride to John's house was quiet. Randy was pure tenseness and nervousness and he obviously didn't want to talk, because every attempt to get a conversation going ended up with a silent Randy after a few words. So John let him stare out of the window shield and only side-gazed the younger man every once in a while. One of Randy's hands held onto the seat-belt while to other rested on his leg, fingers plucking nervously at the fabric of his track pants. His jaw muscles twitched and the brows were furrowed and John had a faint idea what the problem was. It had taken him a while to realize it, but every time they passed a junction Randy tensed even more for a moment. And so he reached out, blanketing the hand that was resting on his friend's leg with his own. Randy's head snapped around at the unexpected touch and John gave him a reassuring smile.

"Everything's alright, Randy," he said soothingly. "It's not gonna happen again."

They both knew that no one could promise something like that but somehow it seemed to calm Randy a little. When John drew his hand back, settling on steering wheel, Randy reached out and put his hand on John's leg, fingers digging lightly into the thick thigh. His eyes stayed fixed on the older man's face, but just like before he kept silent and the rest of the way Randy stayed like this.

When they finally turned into the driveway the touch on John's leg vanished and the tension faded from Randy's body. John got the wheelchair from the trunk, helped Randy out of the car and brought him to the front door, the silence being their companion all the while. John opened the door and pushed the wheelchair in and when the door clicked shut behind them, he squatted down beside the chair and settled a hand on Randy's, whose finger's closed immediately around his.

"Welcome home, Ran," John said quietly.

A sad expression crossed Randy's face but only a blink later it was replaced by a happy one.

"Two months ago I would never have believed to hear that again," Randy murmured. "Welcome home…"

"And you're gonna hear it again when you come home after the surgery," John promised. "Now, how about a little sightseeing?"

That said they started their round tour and John showed Randy the kitchen, the dining room and the living-room, the utility room, the guest bathroom and the garden. It was a house, nothing all too special. It was big and nicely furnished with everything one needed. The first part of the round tour ended at the bottom of the stairs.

"Our rooms and the master bathroom are upstairs," John explained. "I thought we could get two wheelchairs. One for upstairs and one for down here."

Randy turned a bit in the wheelchair and looked up to John.

"That would leave the stair-problem," he stated, frowning.

"Yeah, well, for now I'm gonna carry you," John said and shrugged his shoulders. "We have enough time to think about a solution. Maybe a stair lift?"

The younger man's face fell. A stair lift. The mere idea of using a stair lift made him feel disabled and he didn't like that feeling, although he knew there weren't much other ways to get up there.

"A stair lift?" he muttered, turning back towards the stairs.

John settled a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

"If it makes you feel uncomfortable we'll find another solution, okay?"

With that John lifted him up bridal style, smiling as his friend's arms wrapped around his neck immediately, and made his way up the stairs and towards the master bathroom. It felt strange to be carried around like this. Having John helping him from the bed into the chair or something like that was one thing but this…

"Uhm John, the chair…"

"We don't need it. We're gonna make a stopover in your room before we go back down," John replied as he kicked the door to the bathroom open.

It was a big bathroom. With two wash-basins, a big shower and a really big tub. The idea of a hot bath made Randy sigh, because no matter how often he had taken a hot shower against the pain in his back, it hadn't helped and that sigh didn't escape the older man's notice.

"Wanna take a bath?" John asked grinning and Randy shot him a suspicious glance.

"What are you, Cena, a mind reader?"

"Wasn't that difficult to guess. You looked at the tub and sighed. So?"

"Oh, uhm… yeah. A bath would be great…"

The grin on John's face broadened and Randy couldn't help but smile as a tiny version of those damn cute dimples showed up. Subconsciously he tightened his hold on John's neck. The next room was John's, also a big room with a king-sized bed and by the time they stepped in, Randy noticed that being carried around didn't feel strange anymore. Not even five minutes in John's arms and it almost felt… normal.

John stopped at the door to Randy's room and searched his eyes.

"Ready for your room?" he asked softly and Randy nodded.

He was ready, really. But he would never have expected _that_. No surprise, the room was big. And there was a king-sized bed, just like the one in John's room, with lots of pillows and a giant blanket and it looked so damn comfy. His eyes swept through the room, over a big closet and a giant TV, over the promised X-Box and a hi-fi and home cinema unit, even a big lap-top and…

"John? A minibar? Really?"

John chuckled and walked over to the bed, cautiously lowering his friend onto the bed, sitting down beside him. Randy let his eyes roam the room, before letting himself fall backwards. God, this bed was as comfy as it looked.

"All nice and new. Do you like your room?"

Glancing over to John he thought that this must have cost god knows how much and stated: "You're unbelievable, Johnny. You really did all this… for me?"

Shrugging his shoulders John cocked his head and replied: "Yeah, for you. Tell me if you need anything else, okay? Oh, uhm, I talked to Sam. She said that you can see Alanna tomorrow."

Randy shook his head slowly, still not believing that all this was real, that he decided for the surgery, that he was here with John in his house, that John had given him this room, that he had made it _Randy's own room_ and that he would see Alanna tomorrow and there was a chuckle coming from deep within his chest, growing to a laughter. And that laughter morphed to sobbing as a sudden wave of emotions overwhelmed him. Worried John leaned down to him and brushed a hand over Randy's cheek and Randy caught his hand, holding it to his chest.

"It's okay, Johnny," he said between the sobs. "I'm just relieved. I'm… I'm so damn relieved. Just… give a moment…"

It wasn't what John wanted, just wait until Randy got a grip on his self-control, but it was what Randy wanted. Lying down beside his friend John waited, his hand still on Randy's chest. The sobbing subsided quickly, calmed by a few deep breaths.

"You okay, Ran?" John eventually asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Randy's voice was still a bit shaky though as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Quietness fell over the room as they lay there, both staring up to the ceiling.

But after a few moments Randy murmured: "Wow."

John propped himself up on an elbow, looking down on him and asked: "Wow?"

"Your house. Wow."

"It's an ordinary house," John replied, arching an eyebrow.

"It's nice. And big. Too big for only one person."

"Yeah, well, I'm not planning on being alone for the rest of my life, you know? Besides, you're here, that makes two persons."

Randy's eyes searched his friend's face and came back to John's eyes… those baby blues which were now as brilliant again as they had been in the past, before all of this had happened. Beautiful eyes. Eyes which should draw women in like moths to a flame, still there was no woman at John's side. And he wondered… why? He'd never lost a thought about it before.

"Why are you alone, Johnny?"

"I am not. You are here."

Randy shook his head and sighed.

"You know what I mean. You're good-looking, you're intelligent, a really nice guy and you're still single. Why?"

John hesitated.

"I guess it's just… bad luck. There is someone but… it's a one-sided thing," he muttered, gazing away from his friend.

From the corner of his eye he saw Randy look at him with a sad expression in those grey orbs and he wished so damn much he could just say that it was him he was in love with. There was a tug at his shirt that made him look back to his friend.

"That person is a fool not to claim you on the spot," Randy murmured, his eyes taking on a soul-searching expression.

Those words made John's heart stumble a bit, creating a sweet ache in his chest. With a sad smile he shook his head no.

"No, not a fool. I never told them," he murmured back.

Another tug at his shirt.

"You should, Johnny. Maybe it isn't one-sided. There's always a chance."

Again John shook his head no, brushing a hand through his face as he tried to lighten up his sad smile a bit.

"No, it would destroy everything. It is okay the way it is."

"But you deserve to be happy, John."

"But I am happy."

This time Randy shook his head no and his brows furrowed.

"No, you're not."

John's smile grew a bit and because he was happy, really, the sadness vanished and he reached out to place his hand back on his friend's chest, right above his heart.

"Oh yes, I am. Right now I'm very happy because you are here and…" he said quietly, his voice laced with fondness. "… and because you decided for the surgery and I'm sure that in a year we're gonna sit somewhere, having a drink, not losing at thought about all of this and when we go home, you're gonna walk out there on your own."

Swallowing hard, Randy stared up and into the brilliant blue eyes and there was a sparkle in them, so vivid that he felt the urge to reach out and touch John's face because maybe, just maybe he would _feel_ that sparkle. He didn't… couldn't because if he moved now, the moment would be lost. And those words echoed in his mind and he wanted to believe them, because somehow it felt that with John at his side there was no chance for bad things to happen.

This… this would have been the perfect moment to just lean down and kiss Randy. Really kiss him. And tell him the truth. And John caught himself as he leaned a bit forward, just in time to stop and disguise it by shifting a bit. His hand slipped from Randy's chest and around his upper body.

But their gazes… stayed locked. And it made John's heart beat a little faster… and Randy's breath hitch a bit…

"John, you… I…" Randy began, not really knowing what to say, to put in words what he was feeling and maybe he didn't find the words because he wasn't sure _what_ he was feeling.

Sighing silently John rested his forehead against Randy's shoulder. No matter how much John wanted this moment to last, it was time to stop this before it would end in a disaster and he would do something he would regret for the rest of his life.

"It's okay, Ran. It's okay…" he said, letting go of him to sit up and after taking a sobering breath he turned around and held his hand out towards his friend.

There was something in the depths of those grey eyes. Insecurity? Confusion? Randy's eyes swept to the older man's hand. The moment was gone and it almost felt like a loss. And _it_ was still lingering on his tongue, waiting to be spoken out but he was at a loss what _it_ was. It confused him. He reached out nevertheless, taking John's hand and let himself being pulled into a sitting position. Cocking his head John shot him a grin.

"Come on, the tub's waiting."

Half an hour later Randy sat in the tub, the wonderful hot water soothing his back, while John sat on the floor beside him, both busy with eating pizza because for once Randy hadn't wanted his healthy food stuff. A glass of red wine stood on the rim of the tub and a bottle of beer beside it.

Eventually Randy agreed to leave the tub and although it was only early evening they got ready for bed. Maybe it was because of the strain of the past days that they were both tired, exhausted and so they ended up in Randy's bed, watching TV. John sat with his back against the headboard and Randy lay beside him, propped up on a comfy pile of pillows. After a while John felt a soft touch on his arm that made him look down, finding Randy's head resting against his arm.

"Can you stay… until I'm asleep…?"

Randy's eyes were already closed and his voice was a mere whisper and heavy with sleepiness and he was probably more asleep than awake by now.

"Sure," John murmured, smoothing a hand over the short hair.

Not even a minute later there was a soft snore. John switched the TV off and looked down on the sleeping man beside him. He'd promised to stay until Randy was asleep but that didn't mean he couldn't stay longer and because this was his house and he knew it would be okay for the younger man he remained where he was.

John still couldn't believe it. All of it. But he was thankful beyond words. This was real… And while he sat there, eyes fixed on the peaceful sight, contentment and happiness settled over him like a blanket, making his body tingle and his heart jump.

There was a future now and he held that future close to his heart…

x

The silvery light of the moonlit night fell through the window and it wrapped everything in a soft yet somber mood. Randy's gaze swept over the smooth features of John's face as he slept. John must've fallen asleep at some while he had been sitting there, waiting until Randy had been fast asleep while watching over him. And when the younger man woke up in the middle of the night, he found John in a rather cramped position half sitting, half lying on the bed. It had taken him some minutes and a lot of soft urging until John finally lay comfortably beside him, not being awake for even a second although following Randy's words.

Now they were lying side by side, facing each other and Randy held John's hand, just like he used to, and he listened to the older man's soft breathing. He loved to watch John sleep. A picture-perfect peaceful sight.

John was a handsome man and well-built. Definitely. He was intelligent, funny, loyal, caring, so incredibly warm-hearted… and so damn many more things Randy didn't even found the right words for. One of a kind. Too perfect to be true. Much too perfect…

"I still don't understand it, Johnny. Why? Why are you doing all this?"

His voice was barely audible as he spoke. But really, was it that important to know why John did what he did? Sure, he would have wanted to know but the bottom line was that the only important thing was that _John was there_. Not long ago Randy wouldn't have wanted anyone in his life and now he couldn't think of a life without this man. John being with him had become… essential. So very essential that there was barely a _distance_ left, although there should be. It would have been normal to keep a certain distance, even though the circumstances were… special. Still he let him come this close. The only person Randy had ever let come as close had been Sam. There were only few things left that made the difference between his relationship with John and with Sam. Real kisses, sex and… love.

The corner of John's mouth twitched and Randy's eyes flicked to the tiny movement. He reached out with his free hand and for a heartbeat his fingers hovered over the skin, before they touched it so very gently… and his fingers lingered there, close to the corner of John's mouth… This small kiss…

_What are we, John?_

Hesitantly he let his fingertips trail over John's lips. So soft… And those lips parted slightly under his touch and he felt warm breath fan against his hand, but John did not wake up. He drew his hand back and his eyes swept to his fingertips, looking at them. Every single fiber in his body wanted John as close as possible, emotional and even bodily, every minute, every second. It almost felt like being addicted to him. He needed it, wanted it… just like right now and he was glad that John had fallen asleep here, in his bed, that his friend wasn't in his own room even if it was next door. Cautiously he shifted a bit, trying to inch closer and then he cursed silently under his breath, because his damn legs kept him more or less glued to the spot. Sighing he closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again… he looked straight into John's sleepy baby blues.

"Sorry, I… I didn't wanna wake you…" Randy whispered guiltily.

His hand was squeezed lightly and a small smile appeared on John's lips, as sleepy as his eyes were.

"Mmh, 's okay," replied quietly, turning over to glance at the alarm clock on the bedstand. "I guess it's time to go to my own room."

But as he wanted to get up, Randy held onto his hand, pulling him back down and John looked at him questioningly.

Tugging him closer, Randy murmured: "Stay."

"Randy…" John started, frowning lightly but Randy shook his head.

"Stay. Please."

Two simple words, spoken without hesitation. John gazed at him a moment longer. Why not? Why shouldn't he just stay here? Randy wanted it and he sure as hell wanted it, too. He could get used to sleeping in the same bed with the man he loved, really. It would be another step in their relationship, making him feel like they were an item. It was as close as he could possibly come to being what they never would be. A couple. There was another tug at his hand and another, urging him to come closer and John did.

"Turn over," John murmured and Randy arched an eyebrow.

"Come on, turn over," John repeated, more asleep than awake and eventually Randy did turn over with a little help from the older man.

Arranging Randy's legs, so he could lie comfortably, John lay down behind him, spooning him. With a yawn he wrapped an arm around Randy and pulled him flush against his chest and because Randy was taller than him, he could nestle his face against his friend's nape. A perfectly wonderful place. Reluctantly Randy settled his hand on the arm around his chest. Silence fell for a moment and just when Randy thought that John had fallen asleep again, the older man's thumb started to brush back and forth in a tender caress. It felt good. Being held like this. But Randy knew that it shouldn't feel that good because it wasn't normal, being held like this from a friend, a man. This was something he should only share with his wife, not with John. Yet he wanted it and it wasn't just because Sam wasn't here or because she had abandoned him. He simply wanted it and it felt good, so it couldn't be wrong, could it?

_What the hell are we, Johnny?_

"John?" he asked hushed and got a hum, telling him that his friend was with him. "Isn't this… weird for you? Being so close to a man?"

There was a puff of air against his neck and a small chuckle.

"You're not just _a man_, Ran. Thought you knew that by now."

Yeah, he knew it. It was impossible _not_ to know it. No one had ever directed so much attention towards him like John did and he had no idea what he would do if that ever stopped. And he sure as hell had not the slightest idea how to make it up to the older man.

"I know." His voice was barely a whisper. "What I mean is, shouldn't this feel… weird?"

Weird. The right word would have been _wrong_.

"Should it?" John simply replied, although the question caught him off-guard.

The question itself wasn't surprising though and maybe it was long overdue. In fact a small part of him had waited all the time for Randy to ask it, even when the rest of him had hoped it would never be spoken out aloud. Because voicing it could mean that _the line_ had been overstepped… Waiting for Randy to continue he… hoped.

Gazing out of the window into the dreary night, Randy thought that this answer could mean anything. Faintly he noticed that he could feel John's heartbeat, a strong and steady rhythm and he knew that if he closed his eyes now, concentrating on it, he would be asleep in no time. But he didn't. Not now…

"This isn't normal, Johnny…"

"Isn't it?"

"John, I'm serious."

There was a heavy sigh and then John shifted a bit and when he spoke again he was so close to Randy's ear that goose bumps flared all over the younger man's body.

"I don't care what people think is normal or not. This doesn't feel weird or wrong to me. Does it to you?"

Randy hesitated for a brief moment, before he answered, very quietly: "No…"

"Good. So, do you think we should care about what is normal, wrong, weird or whatever?"

"No…"

"See? Everything will be alright as long as we tell each other if something makes us feel uncomfortable, Ran."

_The only thing that makes me feel uncomfortable is when you're not around…_

It was what Randy thought that very moment, not knowing that it was the exact same thing John was thinking.

"Johnny…" he whispered, not sure if he should ask the question which was lingering on his tongue.

But a small voice in the back of his mind demanded it and he felt John tighten his hold and whisper a faltering _yeah_, just as if he could sense what was about to come.

"What… what are we?" Randy asked then, haltingly, willing the words to pass his lips.

And again… silence fell. And in this silence a word came back to Randy. Love. He loved John, not like a friend or a brother, he loved him like someone much closer than that but… not like he loved Alanna, or Sam. This was a completely new kind of love… His hand smoothed over John's arm to his hand, slipping his fingers between John's, hoping that his friend would end long moment of silence finally.

If Randy's first question had caught John off-guard, the one now made his heart drop. He didn't have the slightest idea how to understand this question. There was no way Randy meant it like he wanted him to, but somehow it sounded like he did… but that couldn't be. It sounded like that because John wanted to hear it. And the way Randy slipped his fingers between his own made it seem like the younger man might just have chosen the wrong words and was afraid now that he could pull his hand away… And because he wasn't sure what was hidden behind those words, John settled for something harmless…

"We're friends. And I love you," he replied eventually, trying to keep his voice light. As he noticed a slight catch in Randy's breathing he added: "That's what friend's do. Love each other, don't they?"

John's words made Randy's heart stumble a bit. It always amazed him how carefree and without fear John voiced what he thought and felt. He made it look like it was the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it was just that. Easy.

"I… love you, too," Randy said, his voice soft. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Johnny."

These words were true but there was something Randy couldn't put his fingers on that made them somehow feel wrong at the same time. He never saw the sad smile which was appearing on John's face at his words. Although to _hear_ that the younger man loved him made his whole body tingle, Randy's words brought a stinging pain and disappointment with. Best friend. Yeah, they were best friends… but it hurt to be only that.

_Be grateful for what you have…_ John thought, trying to push the pain and the disappointment aside.

He had to be grateful, really. Like so often he reminded himself that what they had was far more than what he ever could have expected. Hold close to you what you have, hold it tight and be grateful…

"It's going to be a long day tomorrow. Sleep now, Ran…"

Placing a kiss on Randy's neck, he nestled his face against his nape again and felt Randy press back against him. Again Randy felt John's heartbeat and this time he allowed himself to fall, being lulled by the steady rhythm and the warmth against his back. And while Randy drifted towards peaceful oblivion, John stayed awake and waited. He gazed out of the window, absentmindedly watching shadows move in the pale moonlight. There was a thing with nights… sometimes things changed and what had felt good during the day suddenly revealed problems and bad feelings. Just like right now and suddenly he was afraid of the near future. The surgery was scaring him because there was no guarantee that Randy would come out of it unharmed, that the tumors could be removed completely. And if everything would turn out good… What if Randy decided to go back to his family? It was his damn right to go back and the way Sam had sounded on the phone before she ended the all... like there was the smallest of considerations of taking him back… but he hoped so very much that this wouldn't happen… John blinked once, chiding himself. It was unfair to think something like that, no matter how much seeing Randy leave would hurt him. All of this still had to happen and maybe, just maybe there would be a happy ending.

While he stayed focused on his friend's breathing, he eventually felt it become shallow and even, telling him that Randy had fallen asleep. Just then he closed his eyes, following Randy into oblivion, holding onto the warm body in his embrace…


	14. Chapter 14

Good mooooorning world!

This is an early post, because I finished it very late last night and was too tired to upload it. So now I'm gonna do it because it haunted me all through the night O.o

That's why I keep this AN short (I have to go to work now and I'm late, as always ;-).

Enjoy!

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The first thing John became aware of was… a wonderful addictive scent. And warmth. He nuzzled his face against that warmth and it was soft. Slowly a steady and calming little sound became audible, accompanied by a gentle movement in his embrace. A hum slipped past his lips. God, he loved listening to Randy's breathing…

"Randy…"

A mere sigh. This was the most perfect way to wake up. It was the way he wanted to wake up every day from now on and for the moment he successfully managed to shut off that ever-present little voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that they were not an item, no matter how it might feel the rest of the time. And because that little voice kept silent for once, he was allowed to dwell in this wonderful moment.

They hadn't changed their positions the whole night through and Randy was still completely wrapped up in his arms and pressed against his chest. And he was clinging to John's arm, holding onto it with both hands. Gently John pulled the body in his arms even closer, shifting a bit until their bodies touched from head to toe. God, it felt so… so… he had no words how incredibly good this felt. And under his hand he felt the steady rhythm of Randy's heart and absentmindedly he began to brush his thumb back and forth in a tender caress. In response he received a content sigh and then Randy snuggled deeper into his embrace, making John smile softly.

Gazing over Randy's shoulder and into the already brightly lit day his mind drifted back to the last night. Randy had brought up what he had feared to hear. That being this close wasn't right. That it shouldn't be like this. Yet it was obvious that Randy, although being the one voicing it, wasn't feeling this way, that he _wanted_ this closeness. And the way Randy had turned into that small kiss, back at his room at the hospital…

_What… what are we?_

It had shocked him in a way, because he wouldn't have expected a question like that from Randy. Such a question implied that there could be… more. If he hadn't chosen the wrong words by mistake, why would he ask something like that? But…

_You're the best friend I've ever had, Johnny._

Best friends. Were they really… best friends? Just that? Wasn't this going far beyond being best friends? No… no, they were _more_. Wincing slightly John tried hard to ignore Phil's words which came back just this very second, telling him that Randy was depending on him. And somehow those words, even if John refused to believe them, made whatever this was between them almost seem like a miserable alternative to… Sam. And then these three little words, with so very different feelings behind them…

Barely audible John whispered: "I love you…"

There was no reaction from Randy and using the chance John cautiously placed a tender kiss on Randy's neck… and on his shoulder…

Four days left until the surgery. Four days to make Randy want to stay with him forever, no matter how utopic that sounded, because after the surgery, when Randy would be healed, Sam would most likely want him back. In the beginning John had been okay with the idea to get Randy through this alive and see him go back to his wife but now things had changed… now that they had grown so very close…

With a soft snore Randy let go of John's arm and shifted to lie on his belly. John's eyes swept to the beautiful piece of art that spread over the tanned shoulders and arms and with a feather light touch he let his fingertips trace over it, leaving goose bumps in their wake. A shiver rand through the younger man, followed by a mumble.

"Johnny…?"

Randy turned his head towards John and blinked at him with sleepy eyes. Bracing on an elbow, the older man smoothed a hand over the short hair and smile fondly down at him, receiving a tiny smile from Randy in response.

"Sorry for waking you," he murmured.

"Nah 's okay. What time is it?"

John gazed over to the alarm clock and stated: "It is… eight a.m. and you can sleep a little longer if you want. I'm gonna get up and make some breakfast. We've got some things to take care of today until you can meet your little girl."

"Sleeping a little longer sounds good," Randy mumbled, already drifting off again as John crawled out of the bed.

Randy's eyes were closed by the moment John looked back down on him again and just as he wanted to leave, he heard his friend whispering something. Leaning close he tried to make out what it was.

"Cold…"

It wasn't really cold in the room but John pulled the blanket up to Randy's shoulder nevertheless. A movement caught his attention. It was Randy's hand under the blanket, roaming the space where John had been lying only a minute ago.

"Johnny… 's cold… without you…"

Frozen to the spot John stared down at him, the words tugging at his heart although he knew that Randy wasn't awake… or maybe _because_ he knew that he wasn't awake…

Eventually he managed to wrench himself away from the sight and after his trip to the bathroom he went down, preparing a nice breakfast. That done he called in the hospital to ask for an address of a medical supply store where they could get the needed wheelchairs. It was around nine a.m. when he was finally done and made his way back up to Randy's room, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting and with a sunny smile spread over his lips.

A while later they sat at the kitchen table, having a decent breakfast

"You should try that more often," John said smiling.

Randy furrowed his brows in question, chewing his breakfast busily.

"I meant you should try more often to move on your own accord, like getting in and out of the wheelchair and I know you don't like it, but we have a lot of physio to do," John explained and Randy rolled his eyes. "Don't give me funny looks, Orton. Physio starts after the breakfast and then we're gonna get your two new Ferraris."

The answer was a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh and, Sam said I can drop you off at your house around one p.m.," John stated. "I'm gonna hang out a bit with Phil and you can call when you want me to pick you up."

"I thought you could stay with me and Ally?" Randy asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "She likes you."

"And I like her, really, but Sam is gonna be around, too, and the last times we met we didn't get along all too well," John admitted.

The younger man frowned.

"What happened?"

John never wanted to tell him about their unpleasant conversations, but he didn't have to spill the details, did he?

"Let's just say she… wasn't very nice and she didn't say very nice things about you," John said slowly. "I'm sorry, Ran."

"Sam isn't a bad person, John," Randy said quietly and a small and melancholic, lopsided smile tugged at his lips as he spoke. "She's an amazing mom and I know, the way she acts seems cold-hearted, but… that's not her. It's just… I guess she couldn't cope with the situation and my decision. But maybe we can get over the shit that happened when the surgery is through…"

Randy's voice was heavily laced with sadness, but the stinging pain in John's chest wasn't just because of that sadness.

"You miss her," John said and it wasn't a question.

Randy averted his eyes and nodded slightly, before whispering: "She's my wife. Sam and Ally are my family and god knows I have no damn words for how much I miss…"

The younger man didn't finish his sentence but what had been said had been pretty clear. And John swallowed hard against the lump that built in his throat because…

"You want to go home," John added and did his best to keep his voice steady and this time Randy closed his eyes and sighed thickly.

_It is his goddamn right…_

"Well, I told her about the surgery," he said and his voice suddenly sounded very hoarse to his own ears. "If she's had a problem with you refusing a treatment, then it shouldn't be a problem now for you to go back home."

With that he got up from his chair and began to clear the table, a fake smile spreading over his face as he put the dishes into the dishwasher and he turned his back to Randy so his friend wouldn't see his mask waver.

God, it hurt… feeling Randy slip through his fingers… All the time John had been aware that Randy would most likely choose to go back home to his family but he had wished, hoped, prayed… begged that he wouldn't. But he would. And too damn soon…

Randy watched John a while, taking in the tenseness of those broad shoulders. He knew John wanted to show him that he was happy about him going back home, but he'd come to know the older man enough over the past weeks to know that he wasn't.

"John?" Randy asked worried, moving the wheelchair over to John as he didn't react. "Johnny? What's wrong?"

The older man's heart dropped a bit. John's attempt to hold his fake smile up failed miserably and so he tried to at least keep his face as blank as possible as he turned around to his friend, meeting his questioning gaze. Randy took hold of his hand and pulled him down gently and not giving any resistance, John kneeled down in front of the younger man and allowed him to pull him into a hug that instantly morphed to a tight embrace and without the slightest hesitation Randy buried his face against John's neck.

But as just as he did that, something in John's chest cracked and whispered because he didn't trust his voice: "Maybe… if you miss Sam, maybe you shouldn't do this now. Only a few hours and you can hold her, Ran. You…"

"_No_…"

The word was breathed against John's neck, making him shiver ever so slightly and Randy drew back a bit, locking gazes with him.

"God, Johnny, you think you're just a replacement for her, don't you? You are not, you hear me?"

_Am I not? _

"I know that," John muttered. "A friend can't be a replacement for your wife and gods beware, I wouldn't want that. I'm okay, don't worry."

_Liar. Tell him...!_

Various expressions shone in the grey eyes. Guilt? And the sadness was still there, but this sadness seemed different from the one just a few moments ago. And right in this moment John knew it would have been the right thing to do to say: don't. Don't be sad. And don't feel guilty. This isn't your fault. But he couldn't say it. The grey eyes flicked back and forth, taking on that soul-searching expression he'd seen once before, that expression that pierced right into the depths of his soul and for a second John was sure this gaze was ripping the walls around his well-hidden secret down, revealing all there was.

"You… you are far more as my friend, Johnny. You are… I…"

And there it was again, the question what they were and although John had given an answer to it, the question had not been _answered_. Randy fell silent as he realized that he had no idea how to explain something he couldn't fully comprehend himself. And John waited, a shadow casting over his eyes… daring him to say… it. Whatever it was. But the second he saw Randy avert his eyes he knew he wouldn't get an answer and with a sigh that came straight from the depths of his heart John hung his head.

"It's okay, Randy," he whispered then, slipping out of the younger man's embrace as he straightened up. "It's okay. Come on, let's do some physio. Time's running."

With that he left the kitchen and went over to the living room, leaving a confused and uncertain behind Randy. Sitting down on the couch he waited and it took Randy almost a full minute to follow. They didn't speak much during the physio, only what was necessary, but the younger man was a very willing participant, John noticed. Maybe because he wanted to placate him.

By the time they were at the medical supply store the mood was better again. Trying out various types of wheelchairs proved to be quite amusing, including races through the store. Just to test the chairs of course.

And then… it was time. They made their way to Randy's house and the closer they came, the more Randy became nervous. It was strange to see that massive nervousness fall off of the younger man just like that the moment they pulled into the driveway of Randy's house. It was as if it never had been there. John got one of the new wheelchairs from the trunk and as he wanted to help Randy get into it, the younger man just shook his head… and tried himself. It took him a moment but he managed it on his own and it made John smile to see it. Sam was already waiting at the front door as they reached it and John stopped at the threshold, squatting down beside his friend.

"Okay then, I'm gonna go now," he said softly, settling a hand on Randy's. "Call me and I'll be right there."

He squeezed the younger man's hand lightly and smiled again, receiving a smile in response.

"Thanks, Johnny," Randy replied as softly and then John stepped back, watching Randy disappear in the house, with Sam at his side.

Through the glass of the door he saw as she placed a hand on Randy's shoulder and leaned in… to kiss him and even though it was only a small kiss, John felt a burning pain flare up in his chest. And then he saw Alanna coming from a room which John remembered to be the living room and distantly he heard her crystal-clear voice through the door as she jumped into Randy's arms. And he heard Randy's joyful laughter, saw the expression of complete and perfect happiness on his face as he turned around to Sam, holding Alanna in his arms and Sam was smiling down at him. It was… it was the picture-perfect family.

John felt a choking pressure on his chest as he stepped back from the door and it felt like a foreboding. Maybe he should have stayed, but even then... How could he ever stand a chance against Randy's family? He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows as he tried to fight down the still flaring pain in his chest and after a minute of two he was able to breathe again, to open his eyes. The hall behind the front door was empty but he still heard laughter coming from inside the house. With this sound lingering in his mind he walked back to his car and left.

x

For Randy the following hours where filled with pure happiness and all he was thinking of was Alanna. The carefree time with her made him forget everything around him, all the worries that were weighing down on him and even the fact that he couldn't move his legs was fading into the background.

Randy had to 'drive' her through the house a few times and three times he had to play tea-time with her. And when she demanded from him to play with her in the sand-box, he somehow managed to get out of the wheelchair and into the sand-box without any accidents and for about two hours they were sitting in there, building sandcastles and water-channels. Sam was around all the time, supplying them with food and lemonade and for those hours it was almost like the happy family they had been before the cancer had been diagnosed.

In the late afternoon Alanna was so tired that she fell asleep on Randy's lap and although he wished he could put her to bed, he had to watch Sam do it because Alanna's room was upstairs. He followed them to the bottom of the stairs, watched as Sam disappeared in Alanna's room and with after staring a little longer, he made his way back to the living room, where he moved the chair over the door to the patio, he sighed happily.

It was a wonderful weather, all sunny and not too warm and the air was as clear as the sky was. Images from the past hours drifted through his mind and he could still hear Alanna's laughter. For those hours he had been back at his old life. His perfect life with a loving wife and a wonderful daughter and no shadows that were casting shadows over all this. And it was what he wanted, going back to that life…

When Randy heard her come back down, he gazed over to her and watched as she took a chair and sat down beside him, a bright smile lighting up her face. He smiled back at her and reached out to take her hand.

"She fell asleep the second she closed her eyes," she said but then the smile dimmed and Randy knew what was about to come. "Randy… what changed you mind?"

Randy kept looking at her for a moment and let his gaze sweep over to room, before he fixed his eyes on the blue sky. He knew she wouldn't like his answer.

"It was Ally," he said eventually. "And John."

Maybe it was the absence of her own name or the mention of the older man's name in his answer that made her smile disappear into thin air, but he wouldn't lie to her.

Her voice was dropping to undercooled as she asked: "Cena? What the hell, Randy? This brazen person dared to stick his nose into _our_ life! And he still does! This goddamn bastard…!"

"Hey, stop it, Sam!" he growled and pulled his hand back, effectively stopping her tirade. "I owe John, big time and I don't want you to speak like that about him! He was there when everyone else gave up on me and he was there when _I_ gave up on me and god knows he had to take a lot of shit, but he didn't let me down. So, just… don't, okay?"

She opened her mouth but no words came over her lips. Instead she stared at Randy, but it didn't take her long to recover from his outburst and gingerly she put a hand on his arm and tried a tiny smile again.

"It's okay, Randy. I understand," she said softly and hesitantly she leaned closer to him, her hand tightening her hold on his arm. "I promise I'm not gonna say a bad word about John again."

And she still leaned closer and closer until her lips where mere inches apart from his and gazing into her eyes he saw the woman he had loved for years in them.

"I still love you, Randy," she whispered and placed her lips on his in a sweet kiss and his lips remembered her kiss, answering it.

It was back… his life…

His arms circled her slim waist and not breaking the kiss, he pulled her onto his lap, pulled her close. Her body felt familiar to his touch and he breathed her scent. This was Sam, his Sam and after all those months he was allowed to hold her again. Finally she broke the kiss, placing tiny pecks on the corners of his mouth. Her smile was back, he noticed, and he had always thought of it as a beautiful smile. It still was, but somehow… something was missing…

"This is your home," she murmured against his lips. "I want you to stay, babe. Your place is here with us. Please."

A small voice in the back of his mind remarked that all the time, even when he had been living in a hotel, this had been his home. And that the only reason he hadn't been here after the diagnosis had been Sam, because she wanted him to go. He heard that voice but he pushed it aside with all his might.

"Okay. Just let me call John, okay?"

He produced his cell from his pocket and after a brief moment of hesitation he called John's number…

x

When John arrived at their meeting point he found Phil already waiting for him and damn him for being the sensitive bastard he was, the very second his eyes fell on John, he knew that something wasn't alright. His eyes softened and a small crooked smile appeared on his face as John walked up to him.

"Randy?" he asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

"Yeah. And no. It wasn't him, it was…" John began, brushing a hand through his face. "It was the picture-perfect family portrait they gave as I dropped him off. Whatever… I guess I should stop worrying."

He sighed and tried a smile. Phil threw an arm around his shoulders and began to steer him deeper into the park.

"Hell yes, you should stop worrying for once and now we're gonna have a nice day off," Phil said decidedly. "You hungry? I found an amazing hot-dog stand and a nice place on the lawn, Sunshine."

John wasn't hungry but he let Phil get them hot-dogs and cokes and not much later he found himself sitting in the middle of the park, on the lawn and the sun shone down on them, the birds were chirping happily and the grass was green and the day was so fucking idyllic that it made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. And if this wasn't enough, Phil _knew_ it and did his best to distract him and because his attempt to lighten his mood wasn't as successful as it was supposed to be, it made John feel guilty.

Phil talked and talked and talked and after a little eternity there was… surprising success. Maybe it was because of the attention Phil was directing at him or maybe it was the lulling warmth of the sun, but at some point John felt his worries fade into the background and he settled back, lying down onto the grass and Phil followed suit. The sky wore a charming blue and little white and soft clouds dotted it here and there. The rays of sunshine falling from it seemed to touch the ground like gentle fingers. For about two hours they kept lying there and between moments of comfortable silence they talked about random things. For those two hours he felt at ease.

Eventually John decided that it was time to get up and to the next store to get what he needed for dinner. A very healthy dinner. It was on their way to the cars and John's cell made itself known and when John saw that it was Randy, he felt the ease vanish in a blink, without having an idea why. It was Randy and he was calling, just like they had agreed. Flipping the cell open he answered the call.

"Hey, Ran," he greeted him, willing the sunny feeling that had filled him for the last two hours into his voice. "How was your afternoon?"

But all he got in response was a heavy sigh that made his heart drop. Absentmindedly he stopped walking and only distantly he felt as someone bumped into him. He didn't even really realize as Phil pulled him out of the way.

He swallowed hard and said: "Randy?"

There was a muttered _fuck_ from the other end of the line. His heart dropped even more.

Then: "I'm not coming back with you, John."

John tried to breath but for an agonizing long moment he couldn't. Heavy dizziness pulled at him and he squatted down. A choked moan escaped his clenched teeth and then he felt Phil's hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

"Why?" he asked as he finally managed to draw a breath again.

Again there was a sigh.

"They are my family," Randy said and John knew it was his fucking right to say it, but…

"So she wants you back, huh?" John pressed out through gritted teeth. "Why so suddenly? All the time she didn't give a shit about you and now? And what if things won't turn out as she wants them to? Kick you out again?"

A moment of cold and tense silence followed and John knew it was his fault because he shouldn't have said it, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. And they were the bloody truth.

"I don't think I have to explain myself," Randy replied clipped. "My place is at their side, _not with you_, Cena."

The words unleashed a tearing pain in his chest and with a sob that got stuck to his throat he leaned forward and into Phil's arms, resting his head against the younger man's shoulder.

_Please, don't do that, don't leave me. I love you and I can't live without you, goddammit!_

The words weighed heavy on his soul and screamed to be spoken aloud…

And summoning all his willpower to keep his voice from breaking he said: "I… I wish you all the best, Randy."

He ended the call. His name was murmured, soothing, and then the cell was taken from his hand. Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising that Randy made that decision. The signs had been pretty clear. And maybe it wasn't but it didn't make it less painful. John bit back the tears which threatened to fall and took a few deep breaths to calm down, because this wasn't the right place to break down and as he looked up to Phil, he saw sadness mirroring in his green eyes and his friend settled a comforting hand on his neck and nodded softly.

"Come on, Sunshine," he whispered. "Let's go home."

Although Phil insisted that John shouldn't drive, he didn't listen to the younger man and said that he needed a while on his own. The way home was a mere blur and he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even pay attention if Phil drove behind him, if he did followed him at all. But Phil did follow him and arrived at John's house only half a minute later than the older man. Without a word John made his way into the house and Phil… followed.

Stepping into the hall, Phil heard John mutter something and frowning he watched as the older man leave the house again and when he came back he was pushing the wheelchair, passing Phil on his way to the stairs. He watched him as he lifted it up and started to climb the stairs and he wondered why John simply hadn't left that thing in the trunk or somewhere down here.

"John? What are you doing?"

"I just want to take this thing to Randy's room," John murmured and made his way upstairs.

Phil heard something else between the lines… I want to take it to Randy's room so I don't have to be reminded of him every time I see this damn wheelchair. Phil waited at the bottom of the stairs until John came back down and he followed him silently as the older man went to the kitchen and helped himself to a beer. And he watched John down that bottle to the half.

"Sunshine…" he sighed but John held his hand up and shook his head, before leaving the kitchen to walk over to the living-room, where he let himself drop heavily onto the couch.

Again Phil followed him, sitting down beside him. And while John somehow wanted to shut out the world and forget, Phil thought about a way to help him. For a minute or two they sat side by side, both staring at the opposite wall and the room was filled with quietness and that quietness was so very awkward that Phil eventually broke it, cursing under his breath as he turned to face his friend who was very busy with emptying the bottle as fast as possible.

"John, drinking isn't a solution," he said gently and reached out to take the beer out of his hand, but John held it out of his reach.

"Not drinking also isn't a solution," John muttered and put the bottle back to his lips, but this time Phil got hold of it and pulled it from John's not very much resisting fingers.

Phil placed the bottle on the table and with a most worried expression spread over his face he scooted closer, settling a tender hand on John's cheek to make him look at him. Gazing into the younger man's asking eyes, John blinked slowly. He felt so damn hurt and lonely and frustrated and he was so sick of it. And he fucking wanted it to stop…

"Tell me, Sunshine, what could make you feel better?" he whispered and… John knew…

"You…" John breathed and wrapped his arms around Phil, pulling in and onto his lap. The body in his arms felt firm yet soft, the warmth engulfing him like a shield. Phil felt _so very real_. And right now he needed something real…

And while he slowly raised his head, his lips ghosted over the skin of Phil's neck, his jaw, making his friend's breath hitch and when they found Phil's lips it was only a breath that separated them. His hands found their way under Phil's shirt, drawing a small moan from him when his fingers spread over warm skin, smoothing over it and then John closed the gap, placing a pleading kiss on Phil's lips, tentatively running his tongue over them, asking for permission. With another small moan Phil parted his lips, letting him in and his tongue met John's in a slow and lazy dance. Tentatively John rolled his hips a bit, creating a slight friction and Phil pressed down in response. Yes, this was _real_… and he wanted, needed more. And maybe… maybe he could forget, just for a while… But just as his fingers started to roam Phil's abs, Phil caught his hands, stopping him.

Breaking the kiss, he said hushed: "Sunshine, I don't think that this is a good idea."

Phil was breathing fast and his eyes, though darkened with arousal, were sharp and clear and for a moment John marveled at the self-control he was showing. He knew why Phil stopped him but for the first time today he felt all worries fall off him.

… _just for a while…_

"I know exactly what I'm doing and I _want_ this," John replied, his voice husky. "I _need_ this… Make me forget, Phil… _please_…"

Phil's eyes roamed his face and came back to his eyes, questioning, searching and then he closed them for a brief moment and took a deep breath, before looking at John again. And John watched in fascination as those eyes darkened even more…

"Okay," he just replied after a moment of hesitation and then caught John's lips with his own.

The kiss was slow at the beginning, thorough and John couldn't help but run his tongue along Phil's lip piercing, making the other man chuckle lightly. Their tongues met up with each other and John let him take the lead as he explored his mouth and it seemed as if Phil poured his soul into it, as if he wanted to memorize every little detail.

John had no idea when Phil's hands had moved towards the hem of his shirt, but he gasped loudly into their kiss when Phil's nails scratched softly over the skin there, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Using the moment of surprise, Phil removed the offending shirt, his lips only leaving the other man's just long enough to remove it.

The kissing continued for a moment or two before John left Phil's mouth, not without giving the piercing a gentle tug, and began to kiss along his jaw, stopping to nibble at his ear, and continued to trail kisses down his neck, all the while letting his hands roam up and down the other man's back and chest. Phil's mouth opened slightly as his head tilted back and soft moans escaped him.

Then John paused and pushed him away ever so slightly as if he needed some distance to gather his thoughts, but he only reached for the hem of Phil's shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the tattoos on his chest. Then he let his hand drop to the younger man's hips, holding him in place as he ground up, pressing his by now rock-hard cock against Phil and found a matching hardness.

"Bed," Phil requested, backing away and getting up from the couch.

He held out a hand and John followed his order, his eyes never leaving the Phil's as he was being led upstairs to his bedroom, where Phil shoved him onto the bed and moved to kneel in front of him. For once it seemed that Phil forgot about being the voice of reason, instead giving into the moment. Phil looked at him in a way that made him shiver and again those eyes mesmerized him, the full blown pupils only leaving a thin ring of the well-known green, making Phil eyes seem endlessly deep…

Just then he leaned down, capturing John's mouth in a hard and demanding kiss but after a moment John broke the kiss.

"What do you want me to do, Phil?" he panted.

A strange emotion flash up in Phil's eyes before he leaned close to John's ear and growled: "I want you to fuck me fast and hard, Johnny."

Groaning deep in his throat as Phil's words invaded his mind, as he imagined being buried in him John let his head fall back into the pillow and faintly he heard chuckle darkly and as he glanced back at the younger man, he saw him peel out of his clothes.

"Lose your clothes, Cena," Phil ordered and John obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on the show Phil offered him.

He'd seen Phil uncountable times in his ring-gear and naked under the shower, but never once he'd noticed how fucking sexy this man was. But now he _did_ notice. His gaze dropped to Phil's already erected cock and felt his own cock twitch in anticipation. When the last piece of clothes fell to the floor Phil leaned back in for another quick kiss, before he began to kiss and nibble his way down the older man's neck to his chest and every here and there he bit down a bit harder, drawing little hisses from John. For a moment or two he nuzzled the muscled chest, feeling the massive pecs move against his face as the broad arms came up, hands roaming his back. With a sharp sigh Phil arched his back into the touch and bit down gently on the soft skin under his lips.

"You wanna stay there all night, Brooks?" John growled and grazed his nails over the younger man's back, feeling him shudder under his touch.

In answer Phil bit down again, this time hard enough to leave a mark and John flinched at the sudden pain, muttering a _bastard._

Phil chuckled again as he made his way down the broad chest and worked more kisses down the older man's stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel. The kisses left a tingling in their wake and the bite mark on his chest was burning just painfully enough to be sinful and with every damn kiss and bite he felt himself grow harder and harder. With hooded eyes he watched Phil's lazy movements as he taunted him with his lips and by the time the younger man reached his cock and lifted his head, as his lips ghosted over the swollen flesh, John felt like he was on fire.

With a firm grip Phil closed his fingers around his lover's cock and moved his hand teasingly, once twice, ripping a shuddering moan from John's throat. He saw Phil reach out for the hand lotion which was standing on the bedstand, pouring some of it on his hand, slicking his fingers and he watched as his lover leaned down, lips closing around his cock. John's head tipped back and his fingers clenched into the sheets. A sound that was something between a groan and a sigh fell from his lips as Phil began to bob his head up and down at a leisure pace, sucking, swirling his tongue and he bucked his hips, shoving his aching cock deeper into the hot cavern.

Eventually he managed to lift his head again, gazing down to the younger man who was kneeling between his legs, moving his head up and down in a perfect rhythm and John's eyes widened slightly as he realized that… Phil was preparing himself.

"You're so… fucking hot," he panted, not able to gaze away from that sight.

With another dark chuckle Phil released his lovers cock and held out a hand which John took and with an urging tug Phil he pulled the older man up until he was kneeling on the bed.

Just then he leaned in for a kiss again, whispering harshly: "Your turn, Cena."

Phil positioned himself in front of John, moving like a cat in mid-stretch as he teasingly pressed his backside against his lover's groin, making John's breath hitch and his cock twitch. Then Phil glanced back over his shoulder and what John saw there in the darkened eyes was burning and raw lust. This wasn't the time for lovemaking…

Slowly he slid his hands from Phil's hips to his shoulder, the younger man letting himself being pushed forward a bit… just enough for John to position himself at Phil's entrance… and then his hands smoothed back down to his hips and his fingers dug deeply into the firm flesh…

"Goddamn," John grunted as he pulled him back against him, sliding his entire length into the tight heat and Phil rewarded him with a drawn-out, shuddering groan.

"Do it already, Cena…"

The words were wrapped in a demanding hiss and as John pulled his cock out almost completely and slid back in, Phil pushed back hard, meeting him again and again, until John sped up his thrusts up, pounding into Phil furiously. As he felt Phil tense for a second, accompanied with a choked _yeaaah_ he knew he'd found that very spot and changing the angle of his thrusts he made sure to hit it with every time he drove his aching cock back into that tight heat. John hands held Phil's hips in place, fingers digging deeper and deeper into the flesh, leaving imprints behind and his grip was hard enough to leave bruises. Soon the room was filled with only their groans and panting, with moans and grunts and the violent and rough rhythm of their mating made the body underneath John's touch quake under the force of his thrusts.

"Harder…" he heard Phil pant harshly and he did go harder with every forceful movement of his hips.

To the moans added the pornographic slapping sound of skin against skin. Their bodies were covered with a sheen of sweat and Phil's skin under John's hand felt slick to his touch and glistened in the dim light. It didn't take long until John felt his orgasm building inside him, this new and alien sensation of fucking a man making the sensations rolling through him so much more vivid and overwhelming and those sensations coiled up in his belly, wrapped in flaring heat and he reached down and closed his hand around his lover's neglected and rock-hard cock to pump him in the rhythm of his thrusts. He distantly noticed Phil's growls and grunt become louder, felt him push back even harder, felt him move in his hand faster…

"Gods… John, I'm… I'm gonna…" Phil pressed out in a shuddering moan and then John felt Phil buck his hips and his cock convulse in his hand as he came, felt the tight and hot walls around his cock clench and that feeling uncoiled the heat in John's belly and with a few violent thrusts he set a crushing wave pure pleasure free, rolling through him, hitting him hard enough to make him see stars as he came.

The shout falling from his lips was guttural, lacing into Phil's curses and groans and lost in the sensation he bucked his hips a few more times. Through the lingering haze of his orgasm he felt as Phil's arms and knees gave out and because John had no strength left to hold them both up, he lowered himself down onto the bed, half lying on his lover. There was a soft hiss as he pulled out of him.

John wrapped an arm around Phil's waist and pulled him tightly against his chest, receiving a content sigh from him. For a minute or two they just lay there, riding the waves of the aftermath as they tried to catch their breaths. It was a low chuckle, coming from Phil, that broke the silence.

"That was fast, Sunshine," he said, amusement lacing his voice.

John hummed.

"Mmh… 's your fault, you're just too damn hot," John muttered.

Turning around in John's embrace he faced him, stealing a kiss.

"Can live with that," he whispered against the older man's lips.

Phil gazed into those satiated and glazed baby blues and they were hooded, almost sleepy, but a happy and content expression lay in them, a sparkling that was drawing the younger man in.

"I'm glad that you're here, Phil," John whispered, slowly drifting off.

And Phil stole another kiss before he whispered: "Close your eyes and let go, Sunshine. It'll be alright."

Exhaustion caught up with John and it was strong enough to pull him down into oblivion, to make him forget. The last thing he knew was arms that were holding him and his name being whispered, so infinitely tender…

x

Randy stared up at the ceiling. It was something he'd done uncountable times in the past, staring at this very ceiling. It was familiar, as familiar as the room was and the bed he was lying in. As familiar as the presence beside him. Her body in his arm, how she pressed up against him, the sound of her breathing and her scent, all of it was familiar. Only… that it wasn't. Blinking slowly, he watched the patterns of moonlight and shadows on the ceiling, some immobile, some creeping slowly over it.

It was ridiculous. He wasn't alone. He was… home. This was his house and his daughter was sleeping peacefully upstairs and he would see her tomorrow morning, would see her as often as he wanted and he was lying here with his wife in his arms and it was what he had wanted all the fucking time, being back home with them, having his life back. And now?

There was nothing.

When he had called John he'd been convinced that he was doing the right thing. And it had been the right thing, right? It was, so why did it feel so bloody wrong? He'd noticed it the very second he'd told John that he wouldn't come back with him, or rather the very second John had said… nothing. And he had become painfully aware that it had been a mistake when John wished him all the best, his usually strong and warm voice breaking at the words.

Hollow. He felt so damn hollow…

Randy's mind was whirling. I four… no, three days he would go back to the hospital for the surgery and Sam would be at his side, would be there after the surgery and after he was allowed to leave the hospital again, he would go home with her. And he would live… her life. In her house, because that's how it was, wasn't it? It was her house and her life.

A week ago she hadn't even been willing to allow him to see his own daughter and now she was making plans for a new future together. A future that was only existent because… John had fought so hard. Because he had fought so hard for Randy, even as he'd pushed the older man away as hard as he even could and John had taken every hard word, every insult and every damn blow and he still came back. And he had stopped Randy's fall and pulled him back up into the light, shielding him from the lingering darkness. His friend had given him a chance to live… and… peace, hope and confidence, joy and comfort, warmth, trust, he had made him feel safe and understood and… so much more. It all… he… had given him the strength and the will to stand up to the cancer…

Love.

That one word came back to him. Love. His heart had lurched in his chest as John said it to him, that he loved him. It was what friends did, love each other, even say it and because it was like that, Randy could admit that he loved John, too. It was a new kind of love, different from all he'd felt before. This kind of love was bright and deep and overwhelming in its intensity… and it was addictive. As addictive as John himself. And Randy knew that if he closed his eyes now and just tried hard enough, he would even feel John's touch and he would see those mesmerizing blue eyes and… the promise of a happy future lying in their depths.

Randy's nostrils flared as the vivid memory of John's scent invaded his mind. The older man's name fell from his lips. A whisper. A realization.

And Randy opened his eyes which he hadn't even noticed being closed, and sat up, pulling his arm out from under Sam with a jerk and with a startled yelp she woke up. Randy kept sitting in the bed, eyes fixed on the opposite wall as his mind began to race and he only noticed Sam as she put a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of his thoughts. His head snapped around to her and he blinked once, slowly.

Various expressions crossed her face as she gazed at him, but it was worry he saw shining in her eyes as she asked: "Randy, good god, what's wrong?"

A single laughter escaped his throat, a laughter that was lacking mirth, that was carrying heavy self-reproach instead.

"I was so goddamn blind," he whispered barely audible.

"What are you talking about?" she asked confused. "Will you finally talk to me? Randy!"

He blinked again and narrowed his eyes a bit as he said: "This isn't working, Sam."

Her confusion grew visibly, before it morphed to cold knowing and she began to shake her head in denial.

"No. No-no, don't say that," she replied, slight panic lacing into her voice. "Don't say that, Randy. We can make it work, we…"

She tried to pull him into an embrace but he stopped her, gently pushing her away.

"No, Sam. I… I shouldn't have stayed here in the first place," he muttered as he shifted and climbed over and onto the wheelchair. "I'm gonna go back to John."

Quickly she crawled over to him and reached out, holding onto his shirt.

"To… to John?" she hissed in a fit of disbelieve. "You can't be serious! John is…!"

"Sam, don't!" he snapped and she drew her hand back at his sudden outburst. Much softer he continued: "I want to go back to him. I'm sorry."

With that he left the room without looking back at her and moved the wheelchair over to the living-room, where he'd left his cell. It was in the middle of the night and he knew he'd hurt John, really hurt him and he also knew he could be happy if John would listen to him. He hoped he would. Because he had no idea what he would do if John wouldn't allow him to come back… home…


	15. Chapter 15

Once again I find myself in the middle of the night. I always do when I finally end a chapter and I'm always close to fall asleep on my keyboard…

Now, thanks to all you faithful souls. Especially to those who leave a few words

Here is part 15 and we're still in our journey. AND I hope you gonna like what comes as much as you liked what already happened.

I love you guys! And now, here you go. Have fun and let me know what you think!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phil sighed, a lazy sigh filled with contentment. God, this was so _good_. Sex with John had been _good_. Really, _really_ good. Like, amazing. His backside would be sore for at least a day or two, but it had been damn worth it. And lying here with John, in his arms, the massive body half-blanketing him felt _good_. He took a deep breath, inhaling the older man's scent. A smile spread over Phil's lips. He could get used to this. Really. He could get used to… John, being around all the time with all those nice things they did. Hanging out, talking, cuddling… fucking. A shiver ran down his spine as he suddenly remembered those familiar blue eyes becoming dark, something raw lying in their depths… Oh yeah, he wanted that more often.

He sighed again. As content as he was being _where_ he was, he couldn't sleep and for hours he'd been lying here now, blinking into the darkness. And so Phil slipped very cautiously out of John's embrace and the bed and padded over to the door, where he turned back to gaze at the older man's sleeping form. John was lying on his belly and the blanket pooled around his hips, revealing the broad shoulders and the muscled back. God, that _body_… There was a regretful and tiny sigh dropping from Phil's lips as he watched him and he silently cursed his insomnia. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be lying there, sleeping and enwrapped in those arms, hidden in his embrace? Oh yeah, it would. This man was like a stronghold. Strong arms which provided an embrace to get lost in and broad shoulders to lean against, to hold onto.

But bloody hell, lying there fully awake the whole night through was precious little wonderful. As much as he liked cuddling with John, he had to do something, read or watch TV or something like that. With a crooked smile he padded back to John, breathed a kiss on his lips and got a mumbling in response, before he left the room and closed the door quietly.

He didn't bother to switch the lights on as he went downstairs, as the night was just moonlit enough that he could make out the stairs and his surroundings. Heading for the kitchen to help himself to something to drink, his attention was drawn to a soft blinking in the darkness which turned out to be John's cell. Someone was calling. At the dead of night. Nice. Curious he flipped it open and his gaze fixed on the display and the caller ID shown there.

"Oh, you'll never guess…"

Phil snorted and narrowed his eyes at the small device in his hand, pondering if he should simply flip it shut and get himself something to drink or… The little devil on his shoulder won and he answered the call.

"_Hello_, Randal," he greeted hushed but _most_ politely as he walked over to the living-room.

A short moment of surprised silence. Correction, this was an _utterly_ surprised silence. And he _so_ could imagine the expression on Randy's face right now.

"Brooks?" The name was spoken in a most incredulous way. "What the fuck are you doing at John's place at this time and why are you answering his cell? And where the hell is he?"

Phil's lips stretched to a bitter smile as he replied, sarcasm coating his words: "So many questions, Randal? John asked me to stay, because, you know, he didn't want to be _alone_ and right now he's sleeping. And, no, I'm not gonna wake him. I just wanted to hear that wonderful voice of yours when I saw that it's you. Why do you call at this time anyway? Shouldn't your be holding you beloved wife and sleep peacefully?"

There was a huff on the other end of the line and then Randy sighed, explaining softly: "I want back home."

Back home? Phil narrowed his eyes again, gazing into the darkness of the room as he rolled the words on his tongue. Now, _that_ was surprising.

"You _are_ home, Orton," he stated nevertheless, slowly and inquiring, because he didn't like the taste of those words.

Randy muttered something but Phil couldn't quite understand it. He waited and when Randy spoke again his voice was quiet and low, a little guarded maybe and there was something else floating between those words.

"No. I mean… back home to John."

"Oooh, back _home_ to _John_?" Phil said, his voice dripping now with a rich amount of sarcasm. "Do you know what you're doing to him? Have you ever really lost a thought about it? His whole life revolves around you and he practically has no private life left. You can't switch him on and off as you like! Be a man and stop crying, you can be with your family again, so give him _his life_ _back_, goddammit!"

He wanted to add: _oh_, and by the way, he just fucked me senseless and, yes, I want him to do it again so, no, I'm not willed to leave him to you. It was _so_ itching him to spill it but he bit his tongue, because spilling it would most likely mean that he wouldn't get a chance to repeat their little… intercourse.

"You have no fucking idea, so shut the fuck up, Brooks! And now I want to speak to John," Randy suddenly growled but it didn't escape Phil's notice, that this growl resulted from… fear?

_Oh, I guess I do have an idea, Randal._

"No," Phil said very slowly and the sarcasm gave way to and annoyingly calm tone. "Stay with Sam and stop hurting him."

Yeah, Phil had an idea and that was why a sudden strange emotion deep in his chest told him to make sure Randy would stay away.

"I… I can't," Randy stated.

"_Is_ that so? Why?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you, _Punk_!"

"Oh yes, right now you need to, Randal. I told you this once and I think I should remind you of it: I'm gonna make your life a hell if you hurt him. And you _do_ hurt him, _you bastard_! So why?"

"I… goddammit, I…"

And while Phil waited for Randy to explain himself, he heard the padding of naked feet and his name was being called and with a muttered _fuck_ he hung his head. John had chosen the most _perfect_ moment to interrupt and now Phil would neither get an answer from Randy, nor would he get his chance to end that _thing_ between John and Randy.

Randy had fallen silent and using the last chance to say something to him Phil hissed: "Stop toying with him, Orton. You hear me? Stop destroying his life! I swear I…"

"Phil?"

John's sleepy voice stopped him midsentence and he took to cell down, turning around to the door the very second John stepped into the room. He seemed to be more asleep than awake and stopping in the doorway he leaned heavily against the frame for support, rubbing his eyes, yawning. It was a forbidden cute sight and it made Phil's heart jump in… in… love…

_Oh good lord. Fucking hell. Damn fucking shit…!_

It hit Phil like a sledgehammer and hadn't it been so dark John might have seen him turn white as a sheet. This… should never have happened. He released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding and the air escaped his lips in a shuddering sigh as he tipped his head back. No. This should _never_ have happened. Falling in love with John had never been _supposed_ to happen. _Never_. John didn't love him back, couldn't and he _fucking knew that_. He'd known it from the beginning. At which fucking point had he lost control over his feelings?

"Phil? What's wrong?" John mumbled and pushed away from the frame, padding over to him.

Phil's head snapped forward again and he stared at John wide-eyed as he felt a touch on his shoulder. This was bad. Really, _really_ bad. And then he watched John's eyes sweep down to his hand and the cell he was holding. John's cell. And although it was dark and the older man was sleepy, he recognized it immediately. A frown appeared on John's face.

"What are you doing with my cell?" he asked slowly, looking back up to Phil who sighed defeated.

Lying wasn't an option and so he shrugged his shoulders and said, holding the cell towards the older man: "It's Randy."

The frown on John's face deepened and being so close to him Phil saw a deeply hurt expression flash up in those baby blues as his friend took the cell and turned around, taking a few steps away from him.

"Randy?" John said quietly and audibly reserved.

"Johnny…" Randy sighed and when he continued he sounded so forlorn that John's heart ached. "I know it's late and I… I'm… so damn sorry… It was a mistake. I should have come home with you."

John froze and closed his eyes. The ache in his heart grew…

"You're with your family. How can that be a mistake? Isn't that what you wanted, to be with Sam and Alanna? You were right, you know? Your place is at their side, _not with me_, Randy," he rasped, repeating the words Randy had chosen earlier that day, willing them to pass his lips and he couldn't help the hurt undertone which was lacing into his voice.

He knew his reaction wasn't fair. In fact it was fucking wrong. He couldn't blame Randy for not feeling the same way he did, even less since the younger man had no fucking idea that John was in love with him and he couldn't blame him for wanting to stay with his family. He fucking couldn't blame him for taking all John gave him without rewarding him with, what, _that_ kind of love? Yet he _did_ blame him for all of it and John hated himself for not being able to stop himself. Behind him Phil whispered his name soothingly, brows furrowing in pure sorrow as he stepped up to John, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist to pull him back against his chest. And John let him, leaning against him for support and comfort.

Randy's fingers closed around the armrest of the wheelchair in a death-grip. He couldn't _breathe_. Blinking once, he fought against the cold grip around his heart. John had promised to be at his side no matter what, but Randy knew there's only so much one can take and he had ignored it, had taken John for granted. One fucking sentence. He had messed things up with one fucking sentence, big time and he had no fucking idea how to apologize and make up for it.

"This isn't my home anymore," he said eventually, hoping that the older man would, could believe him.

John shook his head softly as he replied, voice still raspy: "You just need some time to accustom yourself with being back at home. Look, I'm tired and I need some sleep. We can talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Johnny, please!" Randy begged. "_Please…_"

It was the very second John wanted to end the call and stopping mid-movement, the older man looked at the small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over the button. Distantly he noticed Phil drop a kiss on his shoulder and Phil's hand, smoothing along his arm and towards the cell, probably to flip it shut. It was the way Randy's voice sounded, sincere, pleading, that had stopped him and the fact that he loved him and that, although he was disappointed and hurt and blaming him for things he couldn't be blamed for, he wanted nothing more than having him back and close every damn second. And before Phil's hand reached his, he put the cell back to his ear.

"John?" Randy's voice was still begging as he spoke, quiet and guilty and maybe even a bit scared. "John? You still there?"

John took a deep breath and whispered: "Yeah."

Phil's arm dropped to his side and he stepped back from John, who seemingly didn't notice it. It hurt. It shouldn't though. And Phil found himself torn between being happy for John that Randy wanted to come back to him, being jealous and being angry and disappointed. The mere fact that he had to admit to himself that he was feeling more for John than he ever wanted to allow himself pissed him off, because he knew that he factually had no chance to get a foot between John and Randy. And now he had to make a decision. Ending his… relationship with John, being happy with all he got or fight for John…

John brushed a hand through his face as he waited for Randy to say something. His throat was dry and felt raw as he swallowed hard. Through the line he heard Randy breathe fast and wondered what had happened in those few hours. Randy whispered his name, some strange emotion clinging to that whisper and oddly enough it made the hair on his neck stand on end.

"Please, I want to come back home…"

The younger man's voice was very, very small and, yes, definitely scared.

_I miss you, Johnny…_

Randy could taste the words on his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to just say them. And he had no idea _why_ he couldn't. It would have been an honest explanation, _the one_ explanation. He missed John. It was as simple as that. He missed him like hell. So much that it wasn't possible for him to stay with Sam. So damn much that almost tore him apart…

Even through the phone John could sense Randy's inner turmoil and after agonizing long seconds he realized that Randy wouldn't or maybe couldn't say more about what was going on and he didn't need to, because despite everything that had happened today, John's heart had made its decision the second his friend had admitted that staying with Sam had been a mistake. And so… John gave in.

"Okay, Ran. It's okay. I'm coming," John promised. "I'll hurry."

He ended the call and stared down at the small device and despite the happy tingling that grew in his chest he wasn't sure if he was about to make a mistake, but his feet started to move on their own accord.

"Sunshine, wait," Phil said and grabbed his wrist, holding him back. "Don't go."

John looked down at Phil's hand and then back up to him and a tiny, crooked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"I have to, Phil," he said and hell, as if he really had another choice than to comply with Randy's plea.

"No, you _don't_ have to," Phil insisted fervently. "He's a grown man, not a three year old who needs his ass pampered. What if he suddenly decides that he wants to go back to Sam after all? Do you really want to get hurt again?"

A heavy sigh dropped from John's lips because he knew Phil was right, still he replied softly: "But I _want_ to go and I have to risk that he maybe decides to go back to her again. I want him here with me, Phil. I need him and I love him and I can't turn that off…"

There was an apologetic expression lying in those blue eyes as John gently tried to free his wrist from Phil's hold, but with a sudden forceful tug the younger man pulled him in, his hand still holding tightly onto John's wrist while his free arm locked around his neck. It was a pitiful and desperate emotion that overwhelmed him and caused him doing this without thinking first. And so he laid his lips on John's and this kiss was begging the older man to stay and for a second or two John found himself unable to move. Utterly surprised he tried to understand what was happening, but then his body reacted before his mind caught up and his arms came up and around the slim waist and he gave into the kiss.

The kiss didn't last very long though and it was Phil who ended it, whispering as begging as the kiss had been: "Don't go, Sunshine. Stay with me, please. _Please_. Don't you see that I need you? That I lo…"

Phil fell silent as he realized what he was about to say, but John… understood, tensing slightly against him. His eyes flicked back and forth as he tried to get into his head what his ears had just heard and when it sank in, a pang of guilt and uncertainty rang through him.

"Phil… I… don't…" he began but Phil cut him off.

"I know that you don't love me that way, but maybe… You love Randy and you say that you can't have him and I thought that maybe we could, you know, be more… that after a while you maybe could… love me like that…"

It took John a moment to recover from those two revelations and when he wanted to say something, the words failed him. Opening his mouth, he stared at Phil, knowing that his reaction was like a slap to the face for him and just then he felt the younger man letting go of his wrist.

"Phil, I… don't know if it could work," he finally said, still not finding the right words for what he wanted to say and his voice was heavily laced with sincere regret and grave sadness. "I'm not sure if telling him about us would be a good idea. And… Randy and I, we're _close_ and he would be around all the time. I can't do that to you. It would go far beyond not being fair."

Phil had to swallow hard and averted his eyes and it strung a cord deep within John, calling him to gather his friend in his arms and comfort him and just as he lifted his arms a bit to do it, Phil took a few steps back. The message was clear. Don't touch me.

"Okay, I get it… I gotta go," John whispered and went upstairs to throw some clothes on.

All the while Phil stood paralyzed in the middle of the living-room, standing at the same spot and in the same posture as John came back down and walked over to the front door where he stopped and turned back to the younger man.

"Will you be here when I come back?" he asked quietly.

Phil blinked once, slowly looking back up to John.

"I don't know, John," he said defeated.

And maybe it wasn't a right or fair thing to do, but John walked over to Phil and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I could understand if you wouldn't be here when I come back, but I want you to know… I hope you'll be here," he murmured against his friend's lips.

Phil stepped back again and crossed his arms over his chest.

"And then I'm gonna sleep on the couch while the two of you are upstairs in your comfy beds, maybe even in the same bed?" he uttered, gazing away. "That's how it would be, wouldn't it? If you don't want to tell Randy about us?"

And again John was at a loss what to say and so he only stood there and gazed at Phil, who brushed a hand over his hair, shaking his head softly as he stepped back even more.

"You should go now. Randy's waiting," Phil muttered.

One heartbeat. Two. And three.

"I'm sorry, Phil."

John was sorry. Deeply. It made his chest clench painfully and Phil _knew_ how sorry he was. It didn't change a thing though.

"Yeah, John, I'm sure you are…"

He didn't gaze back to John and just waited until John eventually went back to the front door, not wanting or daring to say another word to the younger man, and left and when the door closed behind him the sound of it made Phil flinch. And suddenly the house seemed even darker and so very empty.

Outside John hesitated and a voice, coming from the back of his mind, was whispering to him to go back in because it would have been the right thing to do but the other voice, the one that was coming straight from his heart, it was louder and it was telling him to get to Randy as fast as possible. And so his feet brought him to his car.

Listening to the fading sound of the leaving car, Phil remained unmoving and he still tried to comprehend what just had happened. He had fallen in love. He never had _wanted_ to. But maybe he should have known, should have recognized the signs. And there was another realization, a small one but crushing in its nature: all the time he had been sure that Randy was depending on John, but… it was John who was depending on Randy. A laughter, bordering on being hysterical, dropped from his lips. There was no way he could make John forget about Randy and just a few minutes ago he had reduced himself to a pitiful and begging fool, but the worst thing was… he knew he would do it again and be thankful for every tiny bit of attention John would give him.

Around him the darkness seemed to grow thicker and the quietness seemed to become heavier. And the emptiness… deeper…

When John pulled up into the driveway to Randy's house a while later, his heart started to pound heavily in his chest. All the way he'd done his best to blank his mind, more or less successful. The drive had been a mere blur.

As the motor of the car died down and the lights went off, he noticed a silhouette standing at the window that moved out of view when he got out of the car. He walked over to the front door which opened before he even had a chance to lift his hand and knock.

Sam stepped out of the way and as his eyes swept over her he immediately noticed the slightly hunched shoulders and her arm that was wrapped around her middle, while the other hand gripped the door tightly. As she closed the door behind him, he turned around to her.

"What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice very low.

She blinked once, twice, crossing her arms over her chest.

"All I know is that he got out of the bed in the middle of the night, telling me that this isn't working. So you better ask him what happened, because I have no fucking idea," she said but her voice was by far not as unfriendly as it used to be the last times.

In fact it sounded rather sad and disappointed, still he couldn't bring himself to say something comforting.

So instead he murmured: "Where is he?"

Motioning towards the living-room she muttered: "Over there. I guess the two of you should go before Alanna wakes up. She has no idea that her dad is still here and I don't want her to notice something. It would break her heart if she knew that her dad obviously can't bear to stay here."

John's brows furrowed at her last sentence.

"Don't worry, Cena. He still can see her. You should go to him now. He's waiting for you."

Giving her a short nod he walked over and stepped into the softly lit living-room. The younger man was deeply lost in his thoughts and he was obviously not aware that John was in the house and even in the same room now. John's steps were faltering and his heart was pounding hard against his chest. His eyes never left Randy's face and the younger man looked so very lost. Gingerly approaching him, he called his name hushed and at the sound of the older man's voice Randy's head snapped around, eyes widening slightly before an expression of undisguised relief spread over his handsome features. John kept walking towards him and although he was glad beyond words that he was here now, that he would take Randy home with him again, he still felt hurt and it dimmed the smile that now spread over his lips.

"Johnny," Randy whispered. "I… wasn't sure if you would come."

His heart was beating fast and he could have pretended it was because he really hadn't been sure if John would come and it was pure relief that made his heart speed up, but it wasn't only that. John squatted down beside the wheelchair, eyeing him intently for a few seconds as he searched for a hint what was going on and as much as Randy wanted to reach out and touch him, he didn't dare doing so.

"I told you I would," he replied softly. "Randy… what's wrong?"

"I… I don't know."

_Liar._

Uncertainty and confusion were shining visibly in Randy's eyes, begging him to do something. Anything. And there was something else the older man read there. Something he'd never seen there before, something new, well-guarded by the other lingering emotions. John sighed quietly and the smile dimmed a bit more as he realized that Randy really seemed to be at a loss what was wrong with him. As he straightened up, he felt the urge to drop a comforting kiss on his friend's cheek, but this wasn't the right moment and for sure not the right place to do it.

"Okay then… let's go home," John said and Randy breathed a _yes_.

Making their way to the front door Randy let his gaze drift through the room. A room he'd been in uncountable times with things in it he'd seen so often that at some point he had stopped taking notice. This room, this house… Sam… all of it should have been familiar, but all this, even his own wife, had become foreign to him.

Sam was still standing in the hall. John stopped as she put a hand on Randy's shoulder, who looked up to her and she met his gaze, just looking down on him for a moment or two.

"Why, Randy? I don't understand it," she said quietly, begging for an answer.

Gently settling a hand on hers he shook his head softly.

"I don't understand it myself, Sam," he replied as quietly and also a little helplessly. "I'm sorry."

_Goddamn liar._

Sam's face softened, her eyes becoming gentle and in them John could read that she still loved Randy, so very much. And for the first time ever John saw the woman his friend had married as the layers of hurt pride, worry and anger were wiped away.

"Okay. Maybe you just need some time," she said hopefully. "We could try it again in a few days or weeks and we can meet as often as you want until then?"

She wanted him back, now that Randy had changed his mind and in the pit of John's stomach stirred a bad feeling, dull and faint but more than noticeable _there_.

Randy managed a small smile as he said: "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

He gave her hand a soft pat and then drew his hand back, looking up to John as if to say: can we please finally go? And John noticed her flinch at that little pat and her hand slipped from his shoulder, falling lifelessly to her side and John knew the reason. It was the kind of pat one gave… a friend. A pat that said: no matter what happened, we'll stay friends.

She was pale as she stepped up to the door, opening it for them and as they passed her, John gave her a small nod, but she didn't look at them. Her lips were quivering and her eyes glassy and John almost felt bad for leaving her behind like that.

Their ride to John's place was quiet. Partly because John didn't want to say a word, partly because Randy didn't dare to say a word and partly both were at a loss what to say at all. And so, when they arrived at John's house, the quietness followed them until they stepped into the house and found Phil sitting on the last step of the stairs.

He was sitting there, bracing his elbows on his knees and with his hands folded, chewing on his lip-piercing and with a strange expression flashing up in his eyes he stared at them. A wave of relief flooded John and he took a step towards him and as he did so, Phil stood up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Phil…" John murmured in an almost grateful way and it made Randy look up to him.

The look in John's eyes made his heart drop, although he had no idea why, because he couldn't even name the emotion he saw there.

Tilting his head a bit to the side, Phil muttered: "Just wanted to be sure you're back in one piece."

His eyes swept down to Randy and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Hello, Randal," he added and his voice was taking on a cold tone.

"Brooks," Randy replied quietly.

John took another step towards Phil, drawing the man's attention back onto him.

"You staying?" the older man asked hopefully, but Phil shook his head no.

"No, I'm gonna go home," Phil said, the cold tone morphing to a defeated one. "I meant what I said, John."

Gazing from John to Randy and back to John he was tempted for a second to just step forward and kiss John, to end this farce, but he was fully aware that it would destroy everything. It would destroy John's and Randy's rela… friendship and it would destroy what was between John and him. And John saw it in Phil's eyes…

"Phil, please, wait a moment," John begged hushed. "I'm gonna bring Randy to his room and come back down. Just a minute, okay? Just _one_ minute."

Phil nodded reluctantly and John mouthed a _thanks_ before he walked over to Randy and for a moment Phil's and Randy's gazes locked. This is not over, said Phil's. You can't have him, get the fuck out, said Randy's. And then John lifted Randy up and made his way upstairs, leaving an indecisive Phil alone in the hall and as Phil watched them, he caught Randy look at the older man in a way that made Phil think.

John didn't say a word as he placed Randy on the bed, gently but reserved and still not saying a word he arranged the wheelchair he'd left here earlier beside the bed. Just as he wanted to head back down, Randy spoke his name and it was barely a whisper. For a moment John was tempted to simply ignore it, but then he answered Randy's gaze.

"Not now," he sighed. "I gotta go to Phil."

And then he turned around and left the room before Randy could say something again and he felt bad about it, but he had to go to Phil, had to talk to him. Phil was standing at the same spot when John came down and the older man walked over to him, stopping a step or two in front of him as he noticed the defensive posture.

"Please, Phil, stay and we can…"

Phil stopped him by holding up a hand before John could end his sentence and in a bitter tone he muttered: "No, John. We can't. In a few days maybe, but not now."

And again John wanted to say something and again… Phil cut him off.

"Just… don't," he said weakly. "You can't let your hands off Randy and I can't let my hands off you and although you also can't let your hands off me I know I can't stand a chance against him. And that's why I need time to get my head straight. You should go back to him. We'll talk in a few days. I just waited because I know you're blaming yourself for what happened but there's no need to. I knew what I was getting myself into and you don't need to blame yourself for taking what I was very willing to give. And… what I'm still willed to give, Sunshine."

Settling a hand on John's cheek he leaned in and kissed him and John's hand came up, fingers twisting into Phil's shirt because despite his friend's words the kiss tasted somehow like a good-bye. Phil broke the kiss and stepped away from John, the fabric of the younger man's shirt slipping from John's fingers even as he tried to hold onto it. And then… Phil left.

Frozen to the spot John kept staring at the closed front door for a minute and a part of him was screaming at him to follow Phil, but he couldn't move. When had the things started to get out of hands? He'd never wanted to hurt Phil… And he should never have crossed the line… What if he'd lost Phil because he had been such a goddamn egoist, so fucking blind? What if he…?

His name was being called, making him snap out of his thoughts. And again. Randy's voice was questioning and worried and his feet moved on their own accord, bringing him back to his friend. A bitter _I'm sorry_ passed his lips as he made his way up the stairs. As he stepped into Randy's room he found the younger man sitting on the edge of the bed, a hand on the wheelchair and he was obviously about to get into the chair. Randy's eyes met John's as the older man walked over to the bed, motioning him to get back into the bed. Silently Randy did get back in, shifting until he was lying comfortably while John arranged his legs and pulled the blankets up, all the while avoiding the questioning grey eyes.

"Johnny?" Randy asked hesitantly, but he received no reaction. "I'm sorry for what I said. I never wanted to hurt you…"

"Let's talk tomorrow, okay?" John said quietly, cutting him off. "I'm tired."

The undisguised relief John had seen on his friend's face had long vanished and there was deep worry now etched to the handsome features. But it was almost morning again and John was much too tired to start a conversation about what had happened. And to be honest, he had no idea what to think about all that had happened. About what Randy had done… and what Phil had said. Things had been too much…

Please, stay. Stay here, stay with me. This was what Randy also wanted to say but didn't dare to. And again he wanted to reach out but as John straightened up and finally met his gaze with guarded eyes, he buried his fingers in the blanket instead.

And then John surprised him by leaning down to him, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep now," he murmured. "You're home and it's gonna be alright."

Wide-eyed Randy stared at him and John gave him a tiny smile, before leaving the room without another word. The lights were switched off and Randy heard the older man whisper a _good-night_ to him, leaving the door open. Listening into the night Randy heard John walk over into his room, apparently not closing the door and he heard him get into bed. Then… silence.

In the other room John was lying on his side, eyes fixed on the world outside which looked like an eerie, animated black-and-white painting. It had become a habit to do it, stare out of the window when he couldn't sleep. The disastrous day was weighing heavily down on him. After their conversation during the breakfast it shouldn't have been much surprising that Randy would go back to Sam, maybe even at the same day… it had been painful nonetheless, to see that happy family-portrait, to hear he wanted to stay with Sam. And John knew very well that every single word he'd said to Randy on the phone afterwards had not been okay, even though they had been the truth.

But Randy's choice of words… Simple words… but strong enough to draw a bleeding wound.

And Phil... Phil… It had been so easy with him, so carefree all the time. They had been friends and the attraction which built between them had sweetened the whole thing, not to speak of the relationship that had developed out of this attraction. But then it had to happen and suddenly Phil told him that he loved him and it made things complicated… although he almost wished he could love him back.

Because… it would be easy.

He knew how it felt to be with Phil and it felt so damn good. But that good feeling was different though, compared to being with Randy. Being with Randy felt right, so amazingly good and the love he felt for him was overwhelming and he wanted it, all of it and he wanted him, no matter how much pain it caused him.

And now he felt torn. Torn between going on like he'd done the whole time or ending his relationship with Phil or… give in to Phil's plea and jump head over heels in a real relationship with him, hoping that he would… could forget Randy.

Groaning quietly he closed his eyes and turned his head deeper into the pillow. Sometimes he wondered if there was more between Randy and him. There were times when it _felt_ like there was more, when Randy reacted to those little touches or kisses by turning into them, when they were lying in the same bed and Randy was practically clinging to him. But he probably was only imagining it. It was wishful thinking that Randy might ever feel the same.

Through his whirling's thoughts he noticed something… or rather, he missed something. His bed. It felt empty and it didn't smell right. It didn't smell like Randy…

Once again he opened his eyes, baby blues fixing on an invisible spot somewhere on the eerie black-and-white painting behind the window… and in the quietness of the room his thoughts seemed to be deafening loud…

It had been one night he'd been sleeping in this bed, in this house, but this bed already felt like his own bed and this house like his home. It felt like this because of John, because he made it his home. Deep relief had flooded him when he saw John standing there to take him home and again the second they stepped into this house. Randy knew very well that it shouldn't be like this, that home should be with his family, not with John. But this night had shown him that John was right, that he shouldn't care about what people think is normal, wrong, weird or however one wanted to call it as long as it _felt_ right.

And this… felt right. It felt so _damn right_.

But John's reserved behavior scared him somehow, even if the older man had said that it was going to be alright. He was scared that it wouldn't be again like it had been the past weeks. He was scared that he couldn't make up for hurting John. And then there was Phil and what he'd said at the phone. He wasn't toying with John. At least not intentionally. But maybe to John it felt like he was… Absentmindedly Randy splayed his arms a bit, fingers digging into the soft blanked. The bed felt so empty… without John. The place beside him wasn't _supposed_ to feel this empty but he had gotten so used to having his friend beside him that every fiber in his body was craving for his closeness.

"Johnny…" he breathed, closing his eyes, but the sound was swallowed by the thick quietness of the house.

Randy's mind drifted to Phil. There had been an odd expression shining in his eyes as they stepped into the house, as his eyes fell on John, almost as if he was feeling more for him. And the way John had answered his gaze… Could it be that John… was in love with Phil? The idea seemed to be absurd at the first glance. Thinking that Phil might love a man was one thing. But John Cena, being in love with a man? On the other hand… John had told him that there was someone he was in love with and telling that person would destroy everything. It would fit, wouldn't it, if he thought that revealing his feelings to Phil would destroy their friendship? But again, Phil seemed to feel the same way and that meant that… there was a chance for them.

Randy's eyes flew wide open as he felt a stinging pain in his chest.

_No._

He couldn't lose John to Brooks. No way he could, would let that happen. At the mere thought he felt his heart speed up and it was ridiculous, wasn't it, because he had no fucking idea why this was happening to him and how it could happen at all. It was John's life and it was his damn right to be in love with Phil and be in a relationship with him if Phil was feeling the same. So why was everything in him screaming at that thought? Why did it hurt? It couldn't really be…it? This was so damn confusing… Taking a deep breath he gazed over to the door and told himself to calm down and that he couldn't be sure if he was right with his assumptions concerning John and Phil. To be sure he either had to wait and see or ask John.

Again he listened into the darkness and maybe if he closed his eyes and focused enough, he would hear the sound he'd come to love. That soft breathing. Faintly he noticed a scent invading his nostrils, a well-known scent that created a warm feeling within his chest and it emanated from his pillow.

_John…_

He turned a bit onto his side and buried his nose in the pillow, inhaling deeply and with a soft sigh on his lips he felt the warmth spread… And for a few moments he felt good and at ease. But then… he remembered the last night and the way John had held him. And he wanted that again.

"_Fuck_…"

The word was muttered into the pillow. It wasn't getting any better, was it? Cursing under his breath he pushed himself into a sitting position and inched to the edge of the bed, where he crawled into the wheelchair, not without effort and once or twice the fucking thing threatened to keel over. But after a few straining minutes he managed to sit in it safely and thought that he should listen to John and try this more often and do more physio.

Moving the wheelchair over to John's room, he stopped a moment at the door and let his eyes sweep over the silhouette in the bed. After a moment he moved as quietly as possible closer until he was beside the bed. John was lying with his back towards Randy and the younger man could see a soft shiver rippling through his friend. And there it was, John's soft breathing. It was soothing to hear it. Again he let his eyes sweep over his friend and wished he could just crawl into the bed, even if it was only to sleep there without being held. He would at least be close. But it was clear that John hadn't wanted him being close tonight or else he wouldn't be lying here now, alone.

Maybe… sitting here for a while could do no harm, could it? Or feeling John without touching him? Just for a little while… Gingerly he reached out and placed his hand close to John's back, feeling the warmth that was radiating from him. It was as close as he could get to him and so, content with the moment he closed his eyes

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Hearing John's voice when he was supposed to be sleeping made Randy almost jump out of his skin and he drew his hand back as if it was burned. With wide eyes he watched as John slowly turned over to face him, as he shifted to sit with his back against the headboard and stared at Randy with an expression on his face that made the younger man's heart drop. Exhaustion, sadness, defeat.

"Cat got your tongue?" John muttered as Randy kept looking at him silently.

Randy swallowed and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, I… didn't wanna wake you," he said then, apologetic.

"You didn't. I've been awake the whole time," John replied. "What do you want?"

Cringing at the still so very reserved way John was behaving the younger man folded his hands, resting them on his lap and his eyes fixed on them. He came here to be close to John without being noticed but now John had caught him and now… what? Tell him that he missed being close to him? That he felt strange and confused and that he didn't really know anymore what he was feeling at all when it came to his friend?

"Randy?"

Randy's eyes snapped up to John but only for a brief moment before he averted his eyes again.

"I didn't wanna bother you," Randy mumbled and put his hands onto the wheels of the chair to leave. "I'm sorry."

But just as he wanted to turn the wheelchair, John leaned forward and closed his hand around Randy's wrist, stopping him, making him look back to the older man and Randy's eyes spotted something that made his breath catch in his throat and his heart drop. It was there, right on John's chest and the angry red mark seemed to glow on the otherwise unmarred skin. Faintly he heard John repeating his question, asking him what he wanted, but his whole mind narrowed on that mark. It couldn't be what he thought it was. But it fucking was. A bite-mark. It was a fucking bite mark on John's chest. A hot sting ripped through him that robbed him of his breath as he realized that it could only have been Phil who…

_No… nonono, no, that can't be,_ his mind cried.

"Is it…" Randy began, voice raspy and weak, because he didn't want it to be the truth… because he was afraid that it _was_ the truth. "Is it Brooks?"

The grip on his wrist tightened a tad, before the fingers uncurled and the hand was drawn back.

"What? What are you talking about?" John asked as he leaned back again.

"You said that you're in love with someone," Randy asked, not caring that his voice was still raspy, still weak, because all he could think of was that the mark hadn't been there yesterday morning. "Is it Brooks?"


	16. Chapter 16

So, back again with the next chapter in tow!

LegacyChick: Talking is… difficult. Obviously :3

Hailey Egan Cena: Don't be so impatient ;D

BrightAsNight: Decisions, huh? Mmh, sure… O_o

Alonia187: I won against Smackdown? Wow! XD

Bluestar771: Want some more? This way =D …

TheGirlInThePinkScarf: Thank you so much :D And yessss, I'm evil *muharrharrharr*

Julie: Now, I did my best to finish this one as fast as possible AND this time I'm not close to falling asleep. Leaves enough time for a thank you to all of you guys ;D

all other reviewers: Thank you so much for leaving some words, I love you all!

And now, enjoy and tell me what you think!

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Finally he managed to answer John's gaze and he found surprise and guilt lying in those baby blues, wiped away by a defensive and guarded expression in a blink. The muscles of his jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth, as he waited for John to confirm it… yet Randy hoped that he was wrong. He hoped it so very much…

John swallowed hard on the lump in his throat. Those words had taken him by surprise and although there was no reason to feel guilty, he did and that biting guilt shot through him, accompanied by the stinging fear that _they_ were going to break, this very moment because of what had happened the day before. And while he felt heat rise, caused by that very fear, a chill ran down his spine.

"What makes you think that?" John asked carefully and suddenly Randy's lips stretched to a mirthless smirk.

"Well, maybe the fact that it was him answering your phone in the middle of the night," the younger man stated, words shaking slightly. "Or the way he looked at you or how you did look at him. Or… maybe that mark on your chest that hadn't been there yesterday morning…"

_Or the fact that he tried to make sure that I'm not coming back here_, he thought bitterly.

Involuntary John lifted a hand to the mark. The guilt grew and a small part of him wanted to apologize to Randy for… everything, but then… resistance reared its head. Goddammit, no matter how much he loved Randy, he couldn't have him the way he wanted him and it was his fucking right to be in a relationship if he wanted to. And Randy for sure did not have the right to question that. Phil made him feel good and in return for being there for him John hurt Phil… John's hand sank down again and he laughed lightly and it was as mirthless as Randy's smirk. His mood dropped even more.

The laughter morphed to a calm and daring tone as he said: "What if it is Phil? Is it because he's guy? Or because he is who he is? Why do you care? Tell me, Randy."

The smirk was wiped away from Randy's face as if John had slapped him and the way John looked at him now, the way his voice sounded made his heart pound in unease. This was a side of the older man he'd never come to know before. Right now it seemed to him that no matter what he did or said, things became only worse.

_I care because I think I'm in love with you… _echoed through the younger man's mind, making his heart pound even harder because it felt like he was, even though he wasn't sure if he wanted that and maybe he wasn't, maybe he was just confused about goddamn everything in his life right now. And that was why he didn't want to say the words, because he wasn't, couldn't be _sure_. Not yet. The only thing he was sure about right now was that he didn't want to lose John, that he couldn't let that happen, because it would break him.

Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes for a second, praying that he wouldn't make everything even worse as he said quietly: "It's not important if you prefer women or men. It's just… Phil is… he's around you all the time and it is pretty obvious that he has a thing for you and… and when we came back here and he was waiting, it felt like there's more between the two of you and then I saw the mark… I know it sounds stupid but it feels like I'm losing you to him and I don't want to lose you, John. Okay? I don't know what I would do if I… if I lost you…"

John had been silent during Randy's inner debate and he would have expected that Randy had a problem with him being with a man or with the fact that it was Phil, but he wouldn't have expected _that_… and somehow there seemed to be more behind those words. Maybe… just maybe… And then the younger man's words made a decision for him as their weight tipped the scales…

John's face softened as he replied: "The person I'm in love with is not Phil but he does me good. He was there for me when I needed someone and he cares about me. He's a really good friend. Everything feels easier with him, you know? And the fact that we had… sex… doesn't mean that we're a couple. It's more like friends with benefits and to be honest I don't want to change that. At least not now. But that doesn't change anything between you and me, Ran. Not the least bit. I meant it when I said that I'm gonna be at your side, no matter what, as long as you let me. You're not gonna lose me, okay?"

Randy exhaled a shuddering breath as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and he buried his face in his hands. Time. John had given him time with his answer. Time to sort his own feelings. Time to get rid of Brooks.

He heard a soft rustling and felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, before John murmured: "What I said on the phone yesterday… I'm sorry, you know? I had no right to…"

"No need to apologize, Johnny. You were right with everything you said," Randy interrupted him and looked back up to his friend, his expression sad but there was a small smile gracing his lips. "I didn't think that moment. I guess I didn't think much at all. After all that happened I was finally back at what I thought is my home and a part of me refused to accept that… things have changed. And what you said reminded me of it and I… something snapped… I have no words for how sorry I am, John."

The hurt which had filled John faded, slowly but steadily, leaving only a dull ache behind that he knew would vanish eventually, too. He noticed an odd sparkling in those grey eyes as Randy spoke and it drew John in, made him wonder again… if there was more… His hand slipped down the heavily inked arm to the younger man's hand, curling his fingers around Randy's. And Randy's closed around his in response. For long seconds they kept sitting like this, silent, blue eyes delving into grey ones and with every passing second John felt like, yes, there _was_ more and because it was the right moment and things couldn't get worse, he dared his luck…

Scooting even closer to Randy, John asked quietly: "Randy, I can't get rid of the feeling that there's something else on your mind. You know you can tell me anything, don't you?"

John willed all the love he felt for him into his voice, urging, begging him to say the impossible or at least to give a hint. His hold on the younger man's hand tightened slightly, his heartbeat speeding up as he waited for an answer.

And Randy… his lips quivered as he opened his mouth to speak but no words passed his lips. Good god, he had never even lost the tiniest thought about kissing a man, let alone have sex with a guy. But that had been before John had stepped into his life, before they had developed a closeness which went far beyond close friendship. He couldn't just say _it_ though, not when he wasn't sure. But it would have been so easy, now that he knew that John wasn't as straight as he had believed him to be. He could be so close to John, so very close…

His heart stumbled a bit as he spoke again, willing the words to leave his lips, because it was so very easy: "I…"

… _love you. _

But the words failed him. No. No, it wasn't easy. It should have, but it wasn't, not as long as he wasn't absolutely sure.

"… miss you so damn much, Johnny," he whispered instead. "Ever since you left yesterday to go to Phil I miss you. And after you went to your room I couldn't sleep and I thought, you know, just sitting here for a while would be okay…"

Randy's voice trailed off and with a sigh he fell silent. He hadn't said the words, but telling John that he was missing him was a start, wasn't it? A few hours ago he hadn't even managed to say that. His heart stumbled again as John closed his eyes and tipped his head back, drawing a deep breath, the older man's reaction unsettling him.

John had hoped so much that it would happen and the disappointment was heavy and bitter, yet he felt warmth spread within his chest as he heard how much his friend had missed him. How much he still missed him, although he was back… home. And his initial plan of sleeping in his own bed, alone, melted like snow in the sun, because if he was honest… he missed Randy, too. Even now that he was sitting right beside the bed. And that was why he let go of his friend's hand and scooted to the other side of the bed, making room for him.

And while Randy watched him with questioning eyes, he flipped the blanket back and murmured: "Get in. I'm tired and I really need some sleep."

He patted the free place beside him twice and made himself comfortably on his side of the bed, closing his eyes. For about half a minute nothing happened and eventually John opened his eyes again and gazed at Randy, who was still sitting in the wheelchair, uncertainty written all over his face.

"What?" he asked, frowning and the uncertainty on the younger man's face grew.

"Why would you want me to sleep here? I mean, a few minutes ago you didn't even want to talk to me and…" Randy said quietly and trailed off as John propped up on his elbow, eyeing him intently.

Why did things have to be so fucking complicated all the time? Even now. A simple thing like come on, get into the bed and grab some sleep…

"Because I love you, Randy," John replied out of an impulse to simplify their situation, because it was the truth and it could hardly get any more complicated or worse.

And if Randy understood the words in their true meaning… that it was the kind of love you only want to share with _that one_ person, that person you want to spend the rest of your life with… so be it. Either he would leave, probably for good, or he would stay… and it would change everything. And maybe John wanted him to understand what he tried to say.

And maybe… Randy did.

Holding his breath Randy could only gaze at John and his heart missed a beat or two as his mind tried to process this last sentence. John had said this once before, because it was what friends did. But this time… this time it was different… somehow. John's words hung between them and they felt _deeper_. But maybe he was just imagining it because he… wanted those words to mean _more_?

Once again John patted the place beside him and settled back down, his eyes never leaving Randy's and he waited. At least Randy was still here, so the chances were good that his words hadn't scared the younger man off. Eventually Randy was able to move again and hesitantly he climbed into the bed, settling beside John and out of habit John sat up and arranged Randy's legs, before he pulled the blanket up to his friend's shoulders and slipped back under it, too.

Quietness fell over the room while they lay side by side. John's eyes were closed, without a sign if he was still awake or already sleeping and Randy stared up to the ceiling, focusing on John. He'd left some space between them as he'd crawled into the bed. He was grateful that John let him sleep in his bed and he didn't want to push his luck, so he left it to John to come closer… if he wanted to. But although he wanted to leave the decision to the older man, he wanted to _feel_ him. Tentatively he moved his hand closer to John's, close enough that their hands almost touched. Almost. But he felt him and it was okay. Being here, lying beside the older man was far more than he would have expected a few hours ago. Hell, even a few minutes ago. He felt him, felt his warmth and he heard that wonderful soothing breathing and his familiar scent engulfed him. It was enough for now…

John wasn't asleep and so he felt the small movement beside him and the faint warmth which suddenly reached his hand. After all that had happened it somehow didn't feel right to turn over now and pull Randy close and so John inched his hand a bit closer to Randy's and entwined their fingers. There was a soft sigh in the quietness that made the older man smile into the darkness. And while John allowed sleep to pull him in, that soft sigh echoed through his mind.

On the other side of the bed Randy listened as his friend's breathing became even and shallow and he turned his head a bit, taking in the relaxing features on John's face. Ease settled over him and this time it stayed, soothed his inner turmoil a little. But between the calming waves of feelings and thoughts floated that one question…

_Am I in love with him?_

Was it really that kind of love? Or was it the love you feel for your best friend and thankfulness for all John had done and he was just misinterpreting his own feelings? His eyes roamed John's face, stopped at a tiny twitch of his lips, roaming further down to his chest. The blanket had slipped down a bit, revealing the pale skin and when his eyes found the bite-mark again, he felt jealousy jolt through him, red hot and flaring. And although he didn't want to, he imagined Phil as he… Randy hissed quietly and tried to push that image aside. But… it left him wondering how it would feel… to be allowed to touch that amazing body everywhere, feel those muscles move under his touch… or to have John's attention directed at him _that_ way… John had given him a foretaste in tiny bits and pieces by all those caring and tender little touches, by holding him… and with his innocent kisses, fueling the wish for more. More attention, more closeness, more… John and he wanted him to be around every damn second on every damn day, forever, and he wanted him close and in every possible way with everything he had to give. He fucking wanted him to be his… His eyes snapped back up to John's face. And for the second time within a few hours a realization hit him.

He was _really_ in love with John.

A smile spread over his face and oddly enough that realization made what was left of his inner turmoil fall quiet and released a wave of relief that rolled through him, although the normal reaction to that should have been to freak, because he was in love with a man. Instead he was lying here and his heart jumped in joy.

But only a moment later his smile dimmed a few degrees. There was still Phil and… that unknown person John was in love with. There had been moments in the past and just a few minutes ago when Randy could have sworn… but he couldn't be sure…

Mumbling in his sleep John turned towards Randy, his free hand seeking their joined ones and Randy couldn't help but shift a little towards his friend to reach out, gingerly letting his fingertips trace the older man's eyebrow, along his jaw and over his lips. There was a sigh against his fingertips. His name.

Cautiously he tightened his hold on John's hand and whispered: "I love you, Johnny."

Randy pulled his hand back and gazed at his fingertips. Three days until the surgery. He had three days to find a way to get rid of Brooks, because the man would most likely use the chance to get his paws on John. Three days. And after the surgery he would find a way to make John's heart beat for him _that_ way. He had to.

Closing his eyes he did his best to blank his mind and focus only on the presence beside him. It didn't take him long until sleep caught up with him and with a soft smile on his lips he followed John into the land of dreams.

x

There was a movement against him that roused him from a peaceful sleep and it didn't take long until the events of the past day and night came back to him and so he was fully awake in record time. He was lying on his side and his shoulder hurt, telling him that he must've been lying on his shoulder the whole night through. Opening his eyes just a crack, his gaze fell on the alarm clock on the bedstand, telling him that it was already 12:30 p.m. and then he gazed at Randy who was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Randy was very close, or rather John was plastered along the younger man's side with his arm thrown over Randy's chest and John noticed that they were still holding hands…

And there was another thing he noticed. It was how pale Randy was and the strained expression on his face. How exhausted he looked. Worried John pulled him a bit closer and Randy's eyes snapped over to him.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hey," Randy murmured back and settled his free hand on John's arm.

"You're looking pale, Ran," he said then as his eyes roamed his friend's face once again.

"It's the headache," Randy replied and his voice sounded as strained as his face looked.

John's heart dropped at the words and he asked quietly: "That bad?"

Randy only nodded and with a compassionate sigh John reached up and brushed tenderly over the short hair, settling his hand on his temple. His heart ached a bit at the way Randy turned into his touch.

Savoring the touch, Randy tried to concentrate on it and push the headache into the background. Without success. The headache had woken him and since them moment he'd opened his eyes it felt like his head was going to burst any second. The pain was strong enough that he had to bite back tears, dizziness and nausea and he had been glad that John was plastered all along his side, because his friend's presence always had a soothing effect on him.

"Still mad at me?" Randy asked after a moment.

John pulled a tiny smile up and replied softly: "I was hurt and disappointed. But not mad. Let's forget about what happened, okay? You're here and that's important. And now I'm gonna get you some painkillers and then you're gonna have a brunch in the tub, okay? And afterwards I'm gonna give you a massage and if you're up for the physio, we do some and if not, then we don't."

For a moment Randy only gazed at the older man and for that moment the strained expression faded a bit. This man… he had no idea what he had done to deserve him. And then he did something he'd never done before. Turning towards John, he leaned in and breathed a kiss to the corner of John's mouth.

"Thank you, Johnny," he whispered as he pulled back. "Thank you so much."

The kiss left a tingling in its wake, made John's heart pound hard enough that he was sure Randy could hear it and it took all his self-control not to pull Randy back in and kiss him senseless. He willed his heart to calm down and swallowed hard, trying to hold the tiny smile in place.

_I love you._

It was what both men were thinking that very second and although they both had said it before, neither of them dared to say it now…

It was John who finally willed himself to start their day outside the bed and with a regretful sigh on his lips he crawled out of their nest and not much later Randy sat in the tub and both man were having a nice brunch. While they talked about random stuff, carefully avoiding the past day and night, John tried his best to hide that he was worried beyond words. Randy still looked so very pale and the strained expression just wouldn't vanish from his face, not even after the painkillers and a while in the relaxing warm water.

After about half an hour they went down to the living room, because Randy wanted to do some physio first and the massage afterwards. Lying on the gym mat Randy watched as John moved his legs, just like the physio-therapist had told him and it was still strange because seeing that his legs were being moved without feeling anything made the whole thing surreal, like it weren't his own legs he was looking at. While his left leg was mobile as ever, his right leg was still quite stiff even though John did his best to change that. He knew how strong John was and it was fascinating to see how dosed he used this strength in the right moments and the right places, how careful and gentle his touches were and Randy wished he could feel those hands… At some point John noticed the way Randy was looking at him.

"Like what you see? Want me to strip for you?" he asked casually and smiled broad enough to bring up the dimples.

And because John had started it and it fit the situation, Randy replied as casually: "Yeah. To both."

Amused but with a carefully blank neutral expression he watched as John's smile morphed to a smirk and then he stopped his task, cautiously settling the leg back onto the gym mat before he faced Randy. Randy dared him and he wouldn't back down.

"Is that so, Orton?"

In response Randy pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for whatever John would do now. And the older man _would_ so something, Randy could read it in those baby blues.

The smirk perfectly in place John peeled out of his shirt slowly, making sure to give a nice show and while he did that Randy propped himself up on his elbows, watching him with undisguised interest. The moment had a similar effect on both of them… hearts speeding up a bit… a tingling running down the spine... But the situation was safe because, hey, this was a _joke_, wasn't it?

John's shirt fell to the floor and then he moved to straddle his friend's legs, leaning in, closer and closer until Randy settled back down, lying flat on his back. Putting his hand on either side of Randy's head John leaned over him, and by that moment the smirk gave way to something Randy could only describe as pure and honest affection. The words were lying on his tongue, waiting to be spoken and maybe he was a fool and a coward not to say them, but somehow he couldn't. Not yet…

While gazing down on the younger man John thought that if he leaned down now and kissed him, he could try to simply credit it to the moment. He didn't though and just as Randy he also didn't dare to say the words. But the love he felt for him used the chance and found a way to his eyes. He knew it, felt it, but he didn't bother to stop it. From the corner of his eyes he saw the scar on Randy's forehead. The last visible sign of the accident. His gaze swept up to it and hesitantly he reached up and traced his fingertips along the scar. Every time his mind drifted back to that fateful night, he could still taste the metallic tang of warm blood. Randy's blood…

"You scared the shit out of me back then," he murmured absentmindedly, fingers tracing the scar again before brushing down the side of the younger man's face, over his neck to the spot right above his heart were John's hand came to rest. "I really thought you would die on me."

Randy swallowed a few times at the sudden uneasy feeling as he was reminded of that night. There had been times when he'd thought that it would have been better, easier if he'd died in that car. But that was a thing of the past. Now he couldn't even describe how thankful he was that John had been there that night to pull him out.

"But I'm still here, thanks to you. And I'm planning on being around for a long time," he murmured back.

The younger man's heart was beating strong and steady under John's hand, maybe a little faster than usually, every single beat a reassurance that Randy was alive. Leaning down he placed a small kiss on the scar, like he'd done so often before and as he did that, he felt his friend touch his chest gingerly, probing. He found Randy gaze at his chest as he drew back, eyes fixed on the spot where his fingers touched him. The bite-mark…

Jealousy, anger and unease. Even fear. It was what that mark stirred in Randy. That fucking mark shouldn't be there and what had caused it should never have happened. Gritting his teeth he bit back a painful sting in his chest and wished so very much he could go back and make sure it _wouldn't_ happen.

"If I could make it vanish just like that, I would do it, you know?" John whispered and watched as Randy's brows furrowed slightly.

Covering the mark with his hand, Randy murmured: "It just… it is strange to see it." The younger man's eyes stayed fixed on his chest as he asked hesitantly: "That person you're in love with… is it a man or a woman?"

"A man," John replied then.

There was a tiny acknowledging nod from Randy before he asked: "Do I know him?"

"Yeah, Ran, you know him."

Another tiny nod. The question who it was never came and John was as glad about it as he wasn't.

"He's a very lucky man," Randy whispered and his eyes met John's again.

John heart missed a beat.

"Keep that in mind. Maybe I need you to tell him that when the moment comes," he whispered back.

_Tell him!_ the younger man's heart cried, over and over again. _There is a chance! Tell him, coward!_

And Randy opened his mouth to say it because there _was_ a chance and his mouth was suddenly dry and his throat raw as he spoke: "Johnny, I… I'm…"

But the words never passed his lips…

_Coward._

"I'm tired…" he muttered instead and he noticed how the baby blues above him dimmed for a brief moment.

"Let's go up then," the older man said with a smile on his lips that wasn't quite convincing. "I'm gonna give you the promised massage and then you can sleep. Okay?"

With that John drew back and gathered him in his arms as he straightened up. On the way to Randy's room the younger man had his arms wrapped around John's neck, maybe a bit tighter than necessary and as John placed him on the bed he wished he wouldn't have to let go.

The following massage though was making up for having to let go. Those hands could do magic, definitely. Tugging, digging, smoothing with the perfect pressure at the right points, creating warmth and tingling sensations and it drew little moans and sighs from Randy and he didn't care how it sounded. It felt so fucking _good_. And because it felt so fucking good and he was still drifting in some kind of an aftermath of their little _joke_ down in the living room he was grateful that he was lying face down… because he felt his southern regions become interested. His eyes widened in surprise, partly because this hadn't happened ever since the accident and partly because it _could_ make things a bit awkward, let's say, when they were lying in the same bed, plastered against each other like they used to do. On the other hand… shouldn't he be happy that at least this part of his lower half was still working? He could see to everything else when the moment came. And so he closed his eyes and with an amused little smile he concentrated on John's hands and let those good feelings carry him away…

x

For about an hour John sat in the kitchen, absentmindedly fiddling around with a mug while his eyes gazed at an invisible point on the opposite wall. The coffee was long cold and he hadn't even taken one sip from it. Close to his hands lay Phil's cell which he'd found on the sideboard in the hall. After Randy had dozed off, John stayed at his side for long minutes, his hands keeping on smoothing lightly over Randy's back and the tattooed shoulders because he loved the feeling of his skin under his touch. Eventually he came down here to prepare the dinner and get himself some more coffee and after sitting down at the table, his mind had narrowed on a few thoughts which simply wouldn't leave him alone.

There was Phil… he still couldn't believe that Phil was in love with him. It all had started out so easy and without a sign that it would become this complicated. His words… that he hoped that they could be more, that after a while he maybe could love him. And maybe if it wasn't for Randy there would be a chance that it could be like this, but not under the given circumstances. It had almost killed John to leave him behind like he did last night. To say no. Groaning quietly John pushed the mug away and wiped his hands down his face. He wanted to talk with the younger man about what had happened and the cell gave him an excuse to contact him but he had no idea what to say to Phil or how to apologize. He had no fucking idea what to do at all.

And then Randy's headache. The way Randy had looked was giving cause for concern. The fact that the headache increased more and more… Nausea, dizziness… Three days until the surgery and now it was becoming worse. Why couldn't it just stagnate? Three days and everything would have been okay, but no, instead he had to worry. The doc's words were always there, in the background… what could happen when the tumors grew. There was always that _what if_ creeping behind them like some ugly creature. What if something happened during the surgery? What if it was _too late_? He stealthily tried to ignore the fact that the moment he would say his _see you later_ to Randy, the moment they would take him to the surgery could be the last time he saw him. It fucking scared him.

All the more he was a coward for not saying that he loved him. A sad smile tugged at John's lips. The only difference between the kind of relationship he wished they had and the one they did have was real kisses, sex and the words. He should have told him this afternoon. It had been a good moment… Because again Randy had given him the feeling that there was more. Maybe he simply should have kissed him…

So many should haves… So many wasted moments…

There was a sound knocking at his busy mind, asking for attention. Blinking a few times he freed himself from the haze of those thoughts and it took him a second to realize that the sound was the doorbell. John got up from his chair and went over to open the door.

It was Phil and the second his eyes fell on the younger man and at the guarded expression Phil wore John felt the lingering guilt rear up and before he could say even one word Phil stepped in, letting his eyes roam the hall.

"I forgot my cell," Phil said quietly.

"Yeah, I found it," John replied as quietly. "Wait a second."

His mind raced to find the right words to apologize as he walked over to the kitchen table, fetching the small device. When he came back to Phil he was still at a loss. Muttering a _thanks_ Phil took the cell out of the older man's resisting fingers and turned to leave. And because John didn't want him to go like this, he said _something_.

"I told Randy about us," John stated, effectively stopping Phil's retreat with his words.

With an incredulous expression plastered to his face Phil turned towards John and stared at him, searched his face for a hint that it was a joke. He found none.

"You… you are kidding me?" Phil uttered then.

"No, I'm not," the older man stated slowly. "But it doesn't change anything, Phil. I still love him and we're still gonna sleep in the same bed if we want to and if I get the chance to hold him, I'm gonna do it. And if the most improbable situation occurs and he tells me that he's in love with me, I'm gonna take that chance."

While John spoke he watched various expressions cross Phil's face and he saw something shift in his eyes. At some point his friend began to chew on his lip-ring and John wasn't sure if he did it out of nervousness or thoughtfulness.

"I know that preferring him over you is not fair and it's gonna hurt you over and over again and that's why I think jumping into a relationship on the off chance isn't a good idea," John continued and with a sigh he brushed his hands over his face. "It'll only make things worse. I can't promise that there will ever be more from my side than… friendship. I've hurt you enough, Phil. We should stop this because I don't want to lose you as my friend, okay?"

John fell silent, waiting for a reaction from Phil who still stared at him and then began to nod slowly. Then the younger man puffed a tiny laughter that didn't sound much amused and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, Sunshine. To be honest I don't want this to stop," Phil said and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. "You know, all I did since I left last night was thinking. I overreacted and what I said was foolish. We can go on like we did the whole time. I don't expect anything from you. It is okay for me, really. And I know if he ever says that he loves you… that this thing between us ends. But I don't want it to end now. I… I just had no idea how to tell you this."

Tilting his head a bit to the side, because he couldn't understand why Phil would want this, he stepped up to his friend and his eyes roamed the so very well-known face.

"Phil, you'll only get hurt and disappointed and…"

Phil hushed him with a curt shake of his head and replied: "Just as you when it comes to Randy. And still you want it. Stop thinking too much, Sunshine. I knew what I was getting myself into back then and I know it now. I want us to go on like we did and I promise if the time comes, I won't make a scene. Okay?"

The label on this suggestion was pretty clear and it said: mistake. But it would have been a lie to say John wouldn't want to repeat their little bed-time and so he pushed that thought back and forth, turned in in every possible direction and ignored all the warning-signs, because Phil always made him feel good and although he was getting closer and closer to Randy, although it felt like there might be a chance that the impossible could happen, he knew all too well that it was more likely wishful thinking.

Eventually John scratched the back of his head and murmured: "Okay. But I'm not promising anything."

"So," Phil said, drawing the word out as his eyes roamed John's face, stopping at his lips. "If I kissed you now it would be absolutely okay, even if he saw us?"

A smirk stretched over John's lips and he arched an eyebrow as he saw the green eyes sparkle.

"Yeah, I guess that would be absolutely okay, " John murmured and he didn't give any resistance as Phil's hands came up to his chest, pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall or as the younger man claimed his lips in a demanding yet gentle kiss.

John's arms came up, circling the younger man's waist in a loose embrace as he gave into that kiss. They didn't notice Randy coming from his room to the top of the stairs or as he froze the very moment his eyes caught them. A shadow cast over his face as jealousy reared its ugly head and every damn fiber of his body screamed to do something, anything and closing his eyes against the sight, he put his hands on his legs and dug his fingers into the dead flesh and willed them to move. His grip was hard enough to leave bruises… but there was nothing. _Nothing_.

And just as he opened his eyes again, he saw as Phil left John's lips to turn his attention to the older man's neck, his hands slipping under his shirt as he pressed up against John's broad frame and it was the very moment John's gaze swept up to him. Guilt crossed his face as he saw Randy and he muttered a _stop_ to Phil, gently pushing him away when he didn't stop. Confused Phil blinked at him and then followed his gaze, arching an eyebrow as he saw the reason for the sudden interruption. Randy stared at them for long seconds before he turned the wheelchair and went back to his room, not able to stand the sight any longer.

"I thought he knows about us?" Phil asked, the arched eyebrow perfectly in place as he looked back to John.

"He does know about us," John replied absentmindedly as he kept staring to the place where Randy had been, the guilt that was weighing down on him heavy enough to be crushing.

"So why do you push me away?" the younger man wanted to know as he stepped into John's view.

John blinked once and focused on the inquiring green eyes.

"Because kisses are one thing, but a make-out session in front of him is something else, okay?" John said, wiping his hands down his face.

Sighing Phil nodded and shot John a crooked smile.

"I guess you're right, Sunshine. You wanna go to him and talk about it?"

"Yeah," John replied quietly. "Wanna stay for dinner?"

The younger man grinned and asked: "Kisses included?"

Pecking Phil on the lips he whispered a _yeah_ and left to talk to Randy. He heard Phil chuckle lightly while making his way up the stairs.

With a slightly uneasy feeling in the pit of his guts he stepped into Randy's room and found the younger man by the window, gazing out. Squatting down in front of the wheelchair he put his hands on Randy's, which rested on his legs and searched his eyes. Carefully blank eyes. To John's surprise Randy spoke before he could.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't want to disturb."

John frowned and shook his head slightly no.

"No need to be sorry," the older man replied quietly. "Having a make-out session in the hall isn't okay, so if someone has to be sorry, then it's me. So, I'm sorry, okay?"

Now it was Randy's turn to shake his head no.

"No, Johnny, it's okay. You told me about Phil. I should have expected something like that," Randy sighed.

_It's not your fault that I'm too damn gutless to spill the truth…_

With a hum John lifted a hand and smoothed over Randy's hair down to his nape, where his thumb brushed over the soft hair there.

"How's the head?" he asked, noticing that his friend was still pale.

Randy's hands came up, grabbing the front of the older man's shirt to pull him in and with a deep breath he rested his forehead against John's.

"Now it's a little better," he whispered a bit shakily.

And because he closed his eyes, he didn't see the deeply worried expression cross John's face. The fact that the headache was still so very bad was far beyond being not good.

After a moment Randy asked: "I guess Brooks is gonna stay for dinner?"

"Yeah, I asked him."

Randy couldn't help but groan quietly but because John wanted Phil to stay he promised: "Okay, I'll behave."

_For now_, he added in his thoughts.

"Thanks, Ran. Let's go down?"

At the muttered _yeah_ from his friend he smiled, despite the still lingering uneasy feeling in the pit of his guts, and got up to move the wheelchair to the stairs. As he carried him down he found Phil waiting in the hall with a thoughtful expression all over his face.

The dinner went comparatively smooth with John literally caught in the middle, sitting between Randy and Phil. But both men behaved. After the dinner they moved to the living room and the evening went as smooth as the dinner, although Randy was noticeable quiet. During the evening John noticed his friend rub his temples more often and at some point a deep exhaustion became visible. But when John asked if he wanted to go to his room, he just shook his head no. Eventually John couldn't stand the sight anymore and excused himself to get Randy some painkillers and some water and went to the kitchen.

Randy watched as Phil followed John to the kitchen and with a bitter taste on his tongue and a bad feeling in his guts he also watched as Phil stepped up behind the older man, put a hand on a broad shoulder to turn him around and he locked his arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. And he watched as John's hands found a place on Phil's hips, pulling him closer. Randy gritted his teeth. He fucking wanted to knock Brooks' lights out and kick his own ass because, hey, all it would take was to ask John to leave Phil out of their lives because he was in love with him, goddammit. Pissed with the situation in general and with himself and Brooks in particular he forced himself to turn away from the sight and with a hissed _fuck_ he grabbed his beer from the table.

His heart stopped beating as he felt the bottle slip from his fingers, colliding with the edge of the table and with a high-pitched shattering sound it burst into hundreds of pieces…

It was that sound coming from the living-room that made John flinch and he broke the kiss and pushed Phil away, maybe with a little more force than necessary, but he didn't even notice. With a few quick strides he was back in the living-room and the sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks. Randy still sat on the couch, slightly leaning forward as he stared at his right hand with wide eyes. There was a puddle of beer around his feet and shards were lying in it, even partly on the table.

"Randy? What happened?" John asked worried and saw his friend flinch and look up to him.

The expression on Randy's face shook him to the core. He'd been pale all the day, but now he was white as a sheet and bright fear shone in his eyes. Willing his feet to move, he made the last meters as fast as possible and kneeled down in front of the younger man, ignoring the stinging, cutting pain in his knees.

Settling a soothing hand on Randy's cheek, he asked again: "What happened?"

Randy opened his mouth to say something, but no words passed his lips. Instead his breathing became faster and faster as his eyes flicked back to his right hand and John's other hand cupped his jaw, making him look back at him.

"Sssh, Ran, you need to take a deep breath," he urged and his worry grew with every moment Randy kept silent. "Come on, a deep breath. Calm down, okay?"

Randy's left hand came up to the front of the older man's shirt, fingers burying into the fabric and closing his eyes he tried to breathe deeply, listening to John's words.

"The bottle slipped out of my hand…" Randy replied finally, voice unsteady and close to breaking. "I… I can't move my… fingers…"

John's heart dropped and missed a few beats as he realized _what_ Randy just had told him.

_There is a chance that he will lose sight, his ability to do the movements he wants to do, to the point of an absolute paralysis._

The doctor's words echoed through his mind and he had to swallow hard as bile rose to his throat, had to force himself to keep his breathing slow as panic coiled up in his guts but he did his best to keep up a calm appearance. He had to.

"Gimme your hand, Ran," he said quietly and as Randy didn't react, he took it and held it in a loose grip. "Now try to squeeze my hand. Come on."

Shaking his head slightly no, Randy averted his gaze and tried to pull his hand back but John stopped him, grabbing his chin to make him look up again.

"No, Randy, no. Come on, look at me," he urged, seeking the grey eyes and when Randy finally looked back at him, he nodded slowly. "Okay, that's good. Keep looking at me and now, try to squeeze my hand. _Please_."

Their eyes stayed locked and John waited… and he knew the very second Randy tried to do what John wanted him to do. There was a twitch around the grey eyes, something shifted in them. Randy's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. But John… felt nothing…


	17. Chapter 17

Yes! Yes! Yes! *Daniel Bryan mode* Thanks for the plenty reviews! It's what keeps me going :D

xoxoxo

XD

I'm sorry that this chapter is rather short, but I promise the next one will be up soon.

I hope you'll like this one ;-)

Enjoy!

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The bright fear in Randy's eyes became blinding and with it came panic in its purest form. His breathing accelerated again, dizziness and nausea stretching their hands out for him and distantly he heard John's voice, soothing, calming, urging him to take deep breaths, to focus on him and he tried to… John's eyes, he tried to focus on those beloved blue eyes which were filled with worry.

He tried to, tried so hard… to breathe, to listen to John's voice but there was the feeling of John's touch on his right hand and he couldn't move his fingers although he willed them to… this touch on his hand which felt like it wasn't his own…

"Calm down. Slow, deep breaths, Ran," John hushed him, biting back the panic that coiled and grew in his chest. "Come on, you can do it, slow and deep…"

… _slow and deep… slow and deep…_

The touch on his right hand vanished as John reached up, cupping his face with both hands. The still growing panic threatened to choke John as he kept on murmuring calming and soothing words to his friend, his thumbs brushing back and forth on the pale face.

And eventually John's voice pierced through the haze of fear and panic and slowly Randy's breathing slowed down. A tear rolled down his cheek… then a second and John wiped them away with tender fingers, before pulling him in his arms and as he held him tight Randy closed his arms around John's waist. With a broke sob he hid his face in the crook of John's neck… holding onto him for dear life. A heartbeat later John felt a warm dampness against his neck.

"_Johnny…_"

"It's okay, Ran. I'm here," he whispered as he ran soothing circles on his friend's back, breathing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "We're gonna get you through this."

Somehow he managed to keep his own voice steady and calm although he had no idea how. He noticed a burning in his throat and hot tears falling from his eyes. It was too soon. This shouldn't happen, not now, not yet. Three days until the surgery. _Three fucking days too long_.

"I'm gonna call the hospital and we're going back tonight," he murmured and while he spoke his eyes caught Phil's, who was standing in the doorway with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I'm gonna stay there with you, Ran. Promise."

Reluctantly Phil came closer and sat down on the couch, his folded hands resting on his legs as he watched them in embarrassed silence. It wasn't a secret that he did not quite love Randy, but he for sure never wished him something like that. For a moment he only sat there, watching them until John gazed over to him and Phil could barely stand the agony lying in the older man's eyes.

Blinking the tears away, John cleared his throat and said: "Could you… could you have an eye on him? I need to call the hospital and get a few things…"

"Sure, Sunshine," Phil replied quietly and inched a bit closer to them.

"Thank you," John whispered as he drew back from Randy, but Randy pulled him back in, clinging to him and between the sobs there were barely audible words spoken against his shoulder… _don't do… don't go…_

"Ran, just a few minutes," John murmured and smoothed his hand over the short hair. "Hey, look at me…"

Gently but insistently pushing Randy away he sought his eyes and the expression in them had not changed, but he needed to get their stuff and make the call, as much as he wanted to pull Randy back into his arms and shield him from harm. With a shaky sigh he rested his forehead against Randy's.

"I know you are afraid," he whispered. "I am, too. But we need to get you to the hospital as fast as possible. Okay?"

Randy was too damn scared to let go of John but he knew that John was right. His whispered _yeah_ was barely audible but he let go of him and as John reluctantly straightened up, he saw that Randy began to tremble.

John was scared beyond words and he couldn't nearly imagine how scared Randy had to be.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Phil lean forward and then he felt a hand on his leg. He knew that there was probably blood on his knees, cuts and that there were maybe even shards sticking in his skin, but he couldn't have cared less.

"Your knees…" Phil said worried, but John only stepped away from his touch, his eyes not leaving Randy.

"I'm fine," he muttered, wrenching himself away from Randy.

Time was running.

Grabbing his phone on his way up to their rooms, he dialed the number the doctor had given him after signing the discharge form. The man answered the call and obviously John had woken him, but after explaining what had happened, the doctor was wide awake and told him that he would immediately come to the hospital for further examinations. After ending the call, John gazed down on his cell. His hand was shaking badly… Taking a deep breath he willed himself to calm down because the last thing Randy needed now was that he lost his self-composure.

Distantly Randy heard John's voice coming from upstairs and although he tried hard to keep his mind focused on that sound… it didn't work. While his left hand grabbed the armrest in a death grip, his right hand lay useless on his legs. A hand he couldn't move lay on legs he couldn't feel. The trembling became stronger and with it returned the sobs. And into his sobs mingled… laughter. There was a voice, telling him to calm down and a touch on his shoulder and he tried to shrug that touch off.

"Don't… don't touch me, Punk," Randy pressed out through gritted teeth and the sobs and the laughter subsided as he did so.

"Okay, okay," Phil replied and drew his hand back. "I just wanted you to calm down."

Something stirred in the haze of panic and fear and Randy turned his head slightly, eyes locking with the other man.

"Shouldn't you be happy if I'm out of the way?" he asked quietly, voice shaking. "Isn't that… what you want? To have John all to yourself?"

Phil blinked slowly and his lips stretched to a bitter smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, I want him all to myself," he admitted then. "But I would never have wished you something like this, Randy. And I know that John is gonna hover over you anyway."

Mirroring the bitter smile, Randy spoke again and with every word his voice shook even more, but somehow this ridiculous conversation seemed to keep him sane, now that John wasn't _here_, and so he held onto it.

"Just keep your hands off him, Brooks. You can't have him."

Puffing a little laughter, Phil shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Huh, I knew it," Phil muttered. "Listen, Randal, he is old enough to decide what he wants. Whatever, I promised to have an eye on you and this conversation only upsets you, so we should stop here."

Silence. And Randy felt the effect of their conversation fade and just as all came rushing back full force, he heard John come down the stairs and into the living room. A heartbeat later John was back at his side and the older man's hand closed around his left one, making Randy's eyes seek his and between the lingering panic and fear there was utter relief and trust.

"Okay, Ran, they're waiting. The doc needs to make a few examinations when we get there and the surgery will be tomorrow," John said hushed, squeezing his hand a bit and the younger man's fingers closed around his in response. "It's gonna be alright."

John pulled his hand from reluctant fingers and moved behind the wheelchair as Phil got up, too, laying a hand on John's arm to stop him.

"You shouldn't drive, Sunshine," he stated, giving him a worried frown. "I take you there."

x

About four hours later John sat in Randy's room, waiting. For Randy. To come back from the examinations. It strained his already frayed nerves and he prayed that… that… it wasn't too late. That thought kept him company. What if the doctor would tell them that it was _too late_?

Sighing he let his eyes sweep through the room, wondering how long Randy would have to stay here this time. Faintly he noticed a dull ache in his knees. A doctor had picked a handful of shards out of them and now he had two nice dressings wrapped around his knees.

Four hours. Why did these examinations have to take so fucking long? Blood test, check-up, neurological test, briefing for the surgery and the anesthesia, MRT… but _four_ hours? Sighing again John got up from his place on his bed and walked over to the window and was greeted by the colorful busyness of the city. Their things were unpacked, he'd settled his stay at the hospital while Randy was here… he had nothing left to do except to _fucking wait_.

His mind drifted back to their drive to the hospital. It had been good that Phil had been driving. John had been sitting on the backseat with Randy and the younger man had clung to him the whole way. And the first thing the doctor did when they arrived here was to give them both something to calm down, but somehow it didn't feel to him as if this damn tranquilizer did its job. With a muttered _fuck_ he turned away from the window and walked over to Randy's bed, sat down and arranged the picture of Alanna on the bedside table.

It was then that the door finally jumped open. A nurse pushed the wheelchair in and the doctor followed, but John's eyes were glued on Randy who looked incredibly exhausted and resigned and John hoped it was just a result of the tranquilizer. He slipped off the bed and squatted down beside Randy, taking hold of his right hand, causing his friend to flinch involuntary, but he didn't let go. Randy couldn't move his fingers but he did feel his touch and John wanted him to feel this, maybe to tell him: hey, you can't move your fingers but you can still feel, hold onto _that_. But then Randy's left hand settled onto their joined ones and he even managed a tiny smile for John.

John smoothed his free hand over his friend's cheek, before he looked up to the patiently waiting doctor. No, the tranquilizer didn't work at all. His heart was beating furiously because he was fucking scared of what the man had to say and this very moment he felt a sudden and paralyzing tenseness spreading throughout his body.

"We don't have the complete results yet. The MRT shows that the tumors have grown but the results of the neurological tests are better than expected," the medic explained with an optimistic expression on his face. "The surgery is still possible."

John couldn't stop the half-sigh, half-groan that escaped his throat. The tenseness fell off him, leaving a slight trembling in its wake and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Randy's shoulder.

"Johnny?" Randy said quietly, worried.

"It's okay, I'm just so damn relieved," he whispered back and after a deep breath he looked up again.

"Any questions?" the doctor asked, gazing back and forth between them, but Randy shook his head no and as much as John tried to _think_, he wasn't able to get his thoughts straight right now.

All he could think of was that the surgery was still possible. _It wasn't too late_.

"The surgery is scheduled on 10 a.m. tomorrow. I'm gonna be at the hospital again at 8 a.m., just in case that there are any questions left," the doctor added when no questions came. "I suggest you get some rest."

Nodding his good-bye, the man left and the nurse followed, leaving John and Randy in relieved silence behind. For a moment John stared at the closed door, before he heard Randy whisper his name. Gazing back at his friend, he managed a smile for him.

"How are you feeling, Ran?" he asked and smoothed gently over a stubbled cheek.

"A little dazed and tired," Randy replied weakly. "It has been a bit too much for one night, I guess."

"Yeah, a bit too much…" the older man sighed. "Let's get ready for bed, we should at least try to grab some sleep."

Randy blinked slowly at him and he looked like he just wanted to get into his bed without a trip to the bathroom first, but going to the bathroom first felt normal and they both needed some normality right now…

A few minutes later they were lying in Randy's bed, facing each other. The minutes in the bathroom and now, as they lay here, had been accompanied by thoughtful quietness and although the doctor had told them that it wasn't too late, this whole situation felt like floating in a bad dream. And that dream would last until the doctor would tell them that the surgery had been successful. But the first step was the surgery itself and the hours until then. Long hours.

For the last minutes John did nothing but keeping his gaze locked with Randy's, to hold his right hand, trailing his fingertips over it in slow caresses. The moment he'd taken hold of Randy's right hand again, his friend had tried to pull it away, but he simply didn't let him and eventually Randy relaxed under his touch.

"Don't you want to sleep a bit?" John murmured.

"I don't know… I'm tired but I don't think that I can sleep right now," Randy sighed heavily and then a small frown appeared on his face as something came to his mind. "You really staying the whole time I'm here?"

"Yeah, the whole time," John replied.

The frown on Randy's face deepened. They had never really talked about what would be if he was released from hospital as healed. Back then, when John had told him that he could stay until he would find a new apartment or house or whatever, everything had been so far away. He had never lost a thought about it, because at that time he'd been sure he wouldn't live long enough to see it. But now… now the question what would be was real. He had to move out sooner or later but… he didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with John for good…

John watched in silence as Randy seemed to debate something in his mind. That the tumors had grown hadn't really been surprising. Randy had felt it anyway. But the sudden loss of the ability to move his fingers had been numbing, shocking, frightening beyond words and so it had been so very much reliving to hear that the neurological tests had been better than it could have been expected. He was glad that Randy had finally calmed down after that initial shock. As much as possible under the given circumstances. It had calmed him down, too. Still gazing at him and still caressing his hand, he waited for his friend to say whatever was on his mind.

It took another long minute until Randy dared to say: "We never really talked about what will be when I'm officially healed."

John arched an eyebrow and said: "Then we're both gonna be very happy?"

"Funny, Cena," Randy snorted. "What I mean is… you know, I have to find a new apartment and… ah, damn… how much time do I have until I have to move out?"

Now it was John's turn to frown, but only for a brief moment. The frown morphed to a gentle smile because this was an easy answer to give.

"You have as much time as you need or want," he replied softly and added even softer: "Or you stay for good… if you want."

The grey eyes widened a tad, flicking back and forth as Randy searched John's eyes for a hint that he really meant it. The older man's eyes matched his smile and yes… he seemed to be serious.

"You… you really mean it, don't you?" Randy whispered then, unbelieving.

John gave him a tiny nod.

"I don't want you to move out," he admitted quietly and his smile dimmed a bit at the mere thought that Randy might decide to go. "And I know you don't want to use a stair lift and since the garden is big enough we could attach two bedrooms and another bathroom to the first floor. The bedrooms upstairs could be guestrooms and…"

Randy's eyes widened even more as he listened to what John had planned out and John fell silent as he noticed it. For the moment reality faded into the background as the younger man imagined how it would be, to move in with John permanently and he wished he could kiss John this very second because it was what he had silently wished for. Both.

"I… I know my offer is a bit bold and I'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable but I…" John added quickly at the strange expression on Randy's face but then Randy reached out and buried his fingers into his friend's shirt, tugging him closer until they were lying nose to nose.

Not quite able to believe that John was really offering him to move in permanently Randy breathed: "You are crazy, John."

"Thought you knew that already," he whispered back and added hopefully: "Means?"

A tiny but happy grin spread over Randy's face as he stated: "I want a waterbed and a Jacuzzi."

Wrapping his arms around his friend to pull him into a tight embrace, _because Randy would stay_, John whispered: "Anything you want, Ran."

_Anything I want, huh?_ the younger man thought. There was something… John's house would now be his home and from this moment on it would be _their_ _life_ and thinking that Brooks would come and go and even share John's bed…

"Johnny, if I asked you to end this… thing… you have with Brooks… would you do it?"

The question was spoken so quietly that John wasn't sure if he'd heard Randy right and so it took a few long seconds until the words sunk in. And he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He repeated the words in his mind. And then again… What the hell…?

And while John still tried to process this question, Randy waited and a strange queasy feeling grew in his chest. Maybe he'd overstepped a line here. He had no right to ask that from John and he knew that. Still he needed to ask it because if there was the tiniest chance that he could make sure that Brooks wouldn't get a chance again to get too close to John, he would have to take it. Then suddenly John's embrace ceased and with it Randy's heart dropped.

"What?"

This single word didn't make it any better and John's voice, heavily laced with disbelief and confusion, made Randy wish he'd never asked. And because John's embrace had ceased, his own arms wrapped even tighter around the massive body and with a whispered _sorry_ he hid his face in the crook of John's neck. The older man didn't stop him…

"What's that supposed to mean?" John murmured then, the confusion now more present than the disbelief as he spoke.

Randy knew that John didn't mean the obvious, the literally meaning of his question. What the older man meant was: why? _Why_ are you asking such a question? Unseen by Randy John stared at the opposite wall, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what could make Randy ask something like that. Just because he didn't like Phil?

"Randy?"

Swallowing hard Randy willed his voice not to shake as he replied: "Forget I asked."

The feeling of Randy's lips and his warm breath against the skin of his neck made goose bumps flare on his arms despite the strange situation. He tightened his embrace again and thought that he maybe would regret what he was about to say.

"If you really want me to go back to just being friends with Phil, then I'm gonna do it, Randy," John said slowly, carefully. Hoping. "But why?"

_He would do it… you just have to say it…_

Randy's heart stumbled a bit, because there was a chance to get rid of Brooks, because he was scared to tell John why and because he knew John wouldn't let him get away with saying nothing.

"I can't bear the thought that he kisses and touches you and that you…" He trailed off, not sure if he would be able to finish the sentence like he'd wanted to.

_That you have sex with him. _

Instead he muttered: "I can't bear the thought that he's closer to you than I am."

With a sigh John placed a hand on Randy's nape, playing with the soft hair there. Okay, that was… interesting.

"He's not closer to me than you are, Ran. He never could be."

A huff against his neck.

"Right, and that mark came out of nowhere."

Trailing his fingers over the younger man's shoulder and a bit down his back, along his spine back up to his nape, John pondered what to say next. While he kept the caress up, he felt Randy press closer to him.

"That mark really bothers you, doesn't it?" John asked quietly, placing a kiss on the short hair.

God, after all the shit that had happened today it felt so damn good to hide in John's arms. A hum dropped from his lips as he nuzzled his face against his friend's neck.

"I hate it," he breathed against the skin under his lips, keeping a feather light contact and as he did so, he noticed a light shiver run through John. "And… I don't want to share you, Johnny."

The closeness and that soft touch against his neck, Randy's words… it all added to the emotional strain and John felt his self-control fade…

Before Randy knew what was happening he found himself flat on his back with John hovering over him, half kneeling between his legs, half lying on him and his arms framed Randy's head as he braced on them. Blue eyes delved into grey ones and Randy watched in fascination as the bright blue darkened and their depths revealed something heavy and intense… Too riveted by the sight Randy couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could do nothing except gazing into the mesmerizing eyes above him. Faintly he felt John's breath fan over his face, fast and shallow and a touch on the side of his face, feather light and so infinitely tender that his heart ached and stumbled…

Despite the threatening events of the evening this was a perfect moment and John wanted it to last forever. Randy's face was so young and innocent this very moment, his expression… his eyes… so open, so free of the fear which had lingered there ever since… that moment in the living-room. So beautiful. His heart was pounding heavily against his chest, almost painfully as he gazed down on the younger man, captivated by the way that well-known grey turned into precious silver and the feeling of soft skin and hours of stubble under his touch. But then his attention was drawn to a tiny movement and his eyes flicked down to Randy's lips. Perfect lips. He took in the way they were quivering ever so slightly… And because it was the perfect moment… John kissed him.

It was a soft touch of lips, a small and gentle kiss, lasting only for a brief moment, before John parted his lips and ran his tongue over Randy's bottom lip, asking for permission and with a sigh Randy granted it.

The kiss deepened… tongues met in a shy dance… _addictive_…

For a second John was sure he was dreaming, yet he knew he wasn't. He was kissing Randy. Finally he was kissing the man he loved more than his own life… It sent a jolt through him… that kiss. It was pure heat and electricity, bright and sparkling. It made his heart sing and his whole body hum with love and he breathed Randy's scent, tasted him on his tongue, his lips. And in the pure need to feel more he let his fingertips trail over the side of the younger man's face, over his neck, his chest and belly… and his fingers found a way under the shirt, splaying over soft skin and those tempting abs where twitching softly under his touch. He felt Randy arch up a bit for more contact and gently he slipped his arm under his friend's back as he lowered himself down.

There was Randy's heartbeat, a fast and steady rhythm, running through the younger man's body, running through John's body. And he held onto the firm body in his arms, holding him close… holding him safe… his presence a lifeline…

This kiss was slow, so sweet and so damn loving that Randy forgot how to breathe… that it made him forget everything. It unleashed a warm tingling, running down his spine, spreading throughout his chest… All there was… it was this kiss, it was John's scent and his touch, the feeling of John's body against his own as he settled down completely… it was his name on John's lips, a plea… a revelation. All there was… was John. It was pure bliss… and he wanted _more_.

Randy's right arm came up and wrapped around John's neck while his left hand settled on John's waist, slipping under his shirt to touch the tempting skin and his touch was shy at the beginning, but that skin felt so incredibly good that Randy let his hand roam further, feeling those muscles move against his palm, feeling a shiver run through his friend as he scraped his nails lightly over his back. Slowly Randy's hand moved down, caressing, savoring, coming to rest on John's perfect ass.

There was a quiet moan, maybe from John… maybe from Randy… but it was swallowed by sealed lips, was breathed away.

John felt heat rush between his legs, felt himself grown hard… and it was the very second reality came rushing back, hitting him full force.

Shocked about what was just happening John pulled back, whispering: "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Ran…"

And he wanted to back away from his friend because he never should have kissed him, because Randy never wanted that and… and Randy held him back and whispered his name, begging.

"Don't go," Randy breathed, his grey eyes narrowing ever so slightly and there was a tiny twitch of his lips, as if he wanted to say something else.

Instead he pulled him back down until John was lying completely on top of him and his arms wrapped even tighter around his friend, holding him as close as he even could. Because he couldn't bear the thought of letting him go now…

"I can't feel my fucking legs and I can't move my fucking hand. Goddamn, I want to feel that I'm still here," Randy whispered harshly and the older man felt his left hand move up his back, fingers digging into it. The whisper became softer and shaky as he continued: "You are the only one who can make me feel, Johnny… So please don't go. Please. _Please_. I need you, I..."

John's breath caught in his throat at those words… and cautiously he settled back down.

"Randy, wait," he said softly, trying to prevent him from saying something he would regret later. "What happened tonight was confusing and frightening and in combination with the tranquilizer the doc gave you…"

"No, I know what I'm doing," Randy whispered insistently. "And… there is something I need to tell you and the whole time was too gutless to say it but… I want you to know this before the surgery…"

He was _scared_, not only about his current condition or the surgery and what could happen in the near future. He was also scared about what would happen if he told John the truth. But he had to because this… it could be the last chance…

John tried to pull back and look at him, but Randy held him tight and his heartbeat turned fast and shallow at Randy's words, because he was afraid of what was about to come, yet he hoped that maybe, just maybe… it would be what his heart begged to hear…

Closing his eyes Randy brought his mouth close to John's ear. There was a trembling running through him and in response John tightened his hold on him. He could do it, just say it, because this was John and there was nothing he couldn't tell him...

Willing his voice not to fail him he said: "I love you. I know you lost your heart to someone else and I don't expect anything. I just wanted you to know it."


	18. Chapter 18

And here is the next part and I hope it was fast enough for your taste? We're getting closer but there are still a few chaps to come.

And so many reviews! Thank you so much XD I have no words to explain how much I love you guys!

As always, I hope you'll like this one and I'm patiently but excitedly waiting for your comments :D

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Oddly enough Randy felt ease settle over him. Finally he'd said the words and if he died in that goddamn surgery… it would be okay. John knew that he loved him and he was still here, his embrace not faltering, not even for the briefest moment. Maybe that was what people meant by making your peace… His hold on John loosened a bit, giving him the chance to go if he wanted to… hoping he wouldn't… and he waited…

For a long moment John found himself unable to move. Or to speak. All he could do was holding onto Randy as a few hot tears fell from his eyes, unseen by his friend. All the time he'd wished, hoped, begged to hear those words. And now Randy really had said them… His heartbeat sped up a bit, stumbled and settled for a shallow but happy pounding and with all he had John tried to wrap his whole being around those words to hold them close to his heart.

"John? Can you please say… something…?" Randy asked eventually, insecurity lacing into his words.

Blinking the tears away, John propped up on his elbows, gazing down on Randy and as his eyes found those beloved grey orbs he whispered: "Are you sure?"

"I…" Randy began, the insecurity even more audible. But he was sure and so he added: "Yeah. I love you, John, more than I loved anyone before in my life."

A lightheaded feeling settled over John as he kept his eyes locked with Randy's. This was as real as it could be…

"_You_ are the one I love, Ran," he whispered then, trailing his fingertips softly down the side of Randy's face and the tears came back to his eyes. "All the time it's been you. Only you…"

The insecurity gave way to confusion as Randy looked up to the older man in utter surprise. He couldn't believe it… there had been signs, yes, but in the end he'd reached a point where he'd almost been sure he was only imagining it. Seeing things he wanted to see, because he wished John would love him back…

"All the time?" he asked quietly, because he couldn't grasp that this was real.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry that I lied to you but I was too afraid to tell you the truth," John explained as quietly. "I was afraid that it would scare you off, that I would lose you."

And John hoped that Randy would forgive him that he had been lying all the time, because now the younger man knew that there had been more than just friendship behind every single touch, every little kiss… every moment of closeness…

And then something in Randy's eyes shifted and his gaze became distant as he murmured: "You would have… you would have put up with living with me as only a friend if I... hadn't told you…?"

Randy swallowed hard. By offering him to move in permanently John had accepted living with him as only a friend, thinking that there would never be more than being best friends. He would rather live a life in unrequited love alongside the person he loved, just to be close, to be there? John would have given up _everything_…

A sad smile tugged at John's lips as he said: "I would rather have lived my life as only a friend at your side than not having you close to me, Ran. I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

"Tell me I'm not dreaming," Randy breathed as his gaze found back to John.

"You're not dreaming, Ran. I love you, more than my own life. You are the one I want to spend my life with, until my last day," John whispered and as Randy's arms wrapped around his neck again, pulling him down, he followed.

Firmly covering the younger man's lips with his own they fell into a lazy and worshipping kiss, all slow strokes of tongues and gentle pressure, drawing low and pleased hums from both of them, quiet moans and it created a sweet and warm ache in loving hearts…

For a long moment they were lost in this kiss… a kiss that should have lasted forever but eventually they had to breathe again. With a rueful groan they broke apart and because it hadn't been enough, John leaned in and stole another small kiss from Randy. And a second and as he leaned in for a third, Randy stopped him. A strange sparkle showed up in those grey orbs…

"Take your shirt off," Randy whispered against his lips, while his left hand slipped under the shirt and roamed the muscled back.

"You think it's the right place for a make-out session?" John asked amused as he drew back, straddling Randy's legs and did what he wanted him to do.

A determined expression crossed the younger man's face and as John wanted to lower himself back down, Randy stopped him and pushed himself into a sitting position.

"No, let's save the make-out session for when we get back home," replied with a crooked smile that disappeared as fast as it came. Running his left over John's chest he half-growled: "You're mine now and I want this goddamn mark to vanish."

With that he leaned in, sealing his lips over the bite-mark and began to suck on the skin, earning a low chuckle from John.

"Marking your territory?" he murmured, receiving an acknowledging hum from Randy. "You know, if you keep that up I can't guarantee for anything…"

And while Randy was busy with his chest, John willed his body not to react to it. He didn't want their first time to happen in a hospital bed. Closing his eyes, he sighed quietly. He wouldn't have expected Randy to be _that_ possessive but, gods, he loved it.

With a smacking sound Randy released the skin, surveying his work with a satisfied little nod. A nice hickey was covering the bite-mark now and only subtle traces indicated that it was still there. And then he leaned in again, placing a soft kiss on the hickey before he lay back down, pulling John with him.

"I reserve the right to renew it whenever I want. No one is allowed to touch what's mine," Randy murmured, his lips only a breath away from John's. "Oh and I love kissing you, Johnny. You're gonna give me what I want and you're gonna give it to me _now_."

Oh yeah, he loved the possessive Randy and the image how it would be with him, the idea of being owned by this Randy in every possible way sent a jolt of anticipation through John. This was the first time in his whole life he _wished_ to be owned by someone. Completely. And it was an amazing, addictive feeling…

"Sir, yes, sir," he obeyed and closed the gap for a sweet and deep kiss.

They lost track of time, lost in long and loving kisses and tender touches, holding onto each other and for that time the surgery was far away and the dark and frightening _what if something bad happens_ bounced off their own little bubble of happiness which was surrounding them.

For now the world was perfect…

x

The night had been much too short when John woke up around 6 a.m. and all too familiar sounds greeted him, reminding him where he was. Randy was still asleep, hiding in his arms and his breath fanned over John's neck, his heartbeat an anchoring rhythm under his touch.

With a content hum he held the body in his arms a little tighter and a happy smile spread over his lips as his mind drifted back to their first kiss. It had been a perfect kiss… and his heart jumped in joy as Randy's words echoed in his mind… telling him that he loved him. It all felt like a dream yet he knew it was real, very real. Randy belonged to him now. All that he had hoped for but never really believed would happen… had happened. He had no words for how he felt. This went far beyond being pure joy and happiness. And he'd never before felt so much love for someone. It was so damn intense that it hurt, but the pain was so sweet that he wanted to feel it forever.

Dropping a kiss to the short hair, he gazed out of the window, the happy smile still on his lips while he listened to Randy's soft breathing, savored the feeling of the warm and firm body in his arms...

About an hour later the door opened and a nurse came in and brought the hospital gown and the medical compression stockings, telling him that Randy should take a shower before the surgery. And because Randy didn't wake up, John decided to let him have some more sleep and for another hour all he did was watching over him.

Around 8 a.m. the door opened again. The doc came in and John thought that this man would change their lives today and that he should start calling him with by his name. Dr. Alexander Green. And while Dr. Green walked up to them, coming to stand at the foot end of the bed, John leaned in, whispering to Randy, gently calling him awake. With a soft mumbling and John's name on his lips the younger man woke up, slowly and only reluctantly, blinking at John with sleepy eyes.

"Tell me it wasn't just a dream," Randy murmured with a crooked smile.

"It wasn't a dream, Ran. You officially belong to me now," John murmured back and stole a small kiss as proof.

With a contended hum Randy wanted to cuddle up to him again, obviously unaware that they weren't alone, but John stopped him ruefully.

"We have a guest, babe," he said quietly and with a light frown Randy turned his head to have a look who was standing there.

And to John's relief it seemed that Randy didn't mind the fact that someone had heard their little conversation or seen the kiss.

"It would probably have been more comfortable if you'd pushed the beds together, gentleman," Dr. Green greeted them with a smirk on his lips. "I just wanted to drop by and ask if there are any questions left?"

"Yeah," John said, while Randy shook his head no. "How long will the surgery take?"

"Between seven and nine hours," Dr. Green replied. "There is a waiting room on the same floor as the surgical area. And we're gonna call you when he's in the anesthetic recovery room. Anything else?"

"No, Doc," John said. "And thanks. I know it's not common practice to let family members into the recovery room."

Dr. Green gave a tiny nod.

"Well, I guessed you would want to sit him until he wakes up. And since you have a special guest bonus it wasn't that much of a problem to arrange it. If you excuse me now?"

With that he left the room. For a brief moment John gazed at the door, thinking that the next time it would open… it would be time for the surgery.

Gazing down on Randy he asked hushed: "Wanna talk about the surgery?"

With a sigh Randy resumed his place in John's arms and did what he wanted to do only a few moments ago. Cuddling up to the broad chest he muttered a _no_. He didn't want to talk about it. What he wanted was _not_ to think about it. That and cuddle with John and kiss him. That thought brought a happy smile to his lips.

John didn't see it but he felt him smile against his skin and with a smile of his own he began to trail traces on Randy's back, receiving a purr from him that made his smile broaden.

"Thinking of something nice?" he asked amused.

"I'm thinking about kissing you, Johnny."

"Yeah, I guess kisses are allowed before surgeries. But business before pleasure. They want you to take a shower before the surgery and a nurse brought those sexy stockings and that stylish gown for you."

Randy drew back and grimaced.

"I promise I'm still gonna love you when you wear that stuff. Come on, Ran. A shower together is gonna be nice."

A few minutes later warm water rained down on them. It _could_ have been nice to sit there, having John close while relaxing warm water ran down his body, but it wasn't. He still couldn't move his right hand and although he could have used it to soap himself… his hand wasn't numb but it felt alien… somehow. He simply didn't want to use it. And so he soaped himself with his left hand. With a certain difficulty.

It didn't escape John's notice and with a light frown he kneeled down between the younger man's legs and began to spread the soap over the tanned chest with gentle hands.

"Johnny, your knees…"

"My knees are fine," John said quietly, savoring the feeling of being allowed to touch Randy without holding back. "Why didn't you just say a word?"

Sighing Randy averted his eyes.

"Say what? Can you please help me, because I'm a cripple?" he muttered bitterly.

Cupping Randy's face with tender hands, John urged him to look back up to him.

"How about: can you please help me, because I feel uncomfortable using my right hand?" John replied softly. "You are not a cripple, Ran. The paralysis is only temporary. Your hand will be fine after the surgery."

Leaning forward, Randy rested his forehead against John's and closed his eyes. With a handful of words John managed to make him feel better, to believe, to give him confidence.

"I have no idea what I've done to deserve you, but god knows I'd rather die than ever let you go again," Randy whispered and because John gave him all those good feelings, because he wanted to show him that his words reached Randy's heart, he hesitantly settled his right hand on John's chest, right above the mark that now was _his_ mark.

It was odd. He felt John's skin against his palm, under his fingertips, yet it felt like he couldn't _touch_ him. _But he wanted to…_ And then he felt John's hand settle on his with gentle pressure until his own hand was resting flat on the broad chest.

"I promised you this once and I promise it again now. No matter what happens, no matter what you say or do, I'm gonna be at your side," John whispered back. "From now on you're stuck with me, Ran, because I love you more than my own life."

Tilting his head a little, John claimed Randy's lips in a lazy and gentle kiss, inching a bit closer until there was no more room between their bodies and Randy wrapped his right arm around the older man's neck to hold him close… and maybe also to anchor himself. There was no sound to be heard except the still running shower, the falling water swallowing every breath, every tiny hum and moan while the kiss deepened. Gentle hands roamed slick skin, making goose bumps flared under tender touches, setting soft shivers free…

And just like the past night John felt heat rush between his legs and as much as he willed his cock not to evince interest… it didn't work. Maybe because he didn't need to restrain himself anymore. But now wasn't the right moment to go there. Breaking the kiss he rested his head against Randy's shoulder and took a few deep breaths and heard Randy chuckle lightly. It was a full, rumbling sound and John couldn't only hear it, he also felt the vibration as he leaned against the younger man.

"I'm sorry, Ran," he muttered and ridiculously enough a blush crept up his cheeks.

"No need to, I'm feeling flattered," Randy replied with a purr. "Want me to take care of it?"

For a second John was tempted to say yes, but this wasn't the way he wanted it to happen. He couldn't help the slightly agonized groan that dropped from his lips at the mere thought of what Randy offered… Taking another deep breath he looked back up to Randy and shook his head no.

"Not now, babe," he said, stealing another small kiss. "This is not the right place and not the right moment. I want to make sure we both have fun when we get there."

With a sigh Randy dropped his good hand to John's backside, fingers digging into the firm flesh, getting a low hum from the older man in response.

"Fun, huh?" he murmured and leaned in to nibble on John's lower lip.

"Oh yeah, fun," John murmured back. "And that includes a big and comfy bed, massage oil and a _lot_ of time. I want to make you feel good, Ran, really _really_ good."

Randy left John's lips and rested his head against a broad shoulder, quietly moaning as he imagined how it would be… how it would _feel_ to have John's full attention directed at him that way… and those hands… those lips… His own southern regions became interested, too… a bit at least. But he had no doubt that John _would_ make it _work_ when the moment came. With a smile on his lips he turned his face against John's neck.

"I love you, John," Randy said just loud enough for John to hear it.

The room fell quiet. For long minutes they stayed like this, pressed up against each other while the water kept raining down on them, hands roaming in tender caresses.

When John finally turned the water off it seemed like all the ease that had engulfed them was swept away and the dark cloud of the oncoming surgery was back. The quietness lingered, even as they got back to Randy's bed where John helped Randy with the compression stockings and the gown. After getting back into the bed Randy instantly crawled back into John's arms, wrapping his left arm tightly around the older man's waist. It had become a habit to do this, hiding in John's embrace. It made him feel safe. And for John it felt good to know that he could give Randy this feeling.

It was Randy who eventually broke the silence as he whispered: "I'm scared to death, Johnny…"

Randy's words sent a chill down John's spine. Breathing a kiss to those soft lips he pulled him closer and tucked Randy's head under his chin.

"I know, babe," John murmured.

He wouldn't tell him that there was no need to be afraid because it would have been a lie. Although John always did his best to be optimistic, he was also realistic. There were so many reasons to be afraid. But because Randy needed him, he held onto optimism and confidence and simply believed that everything would be alright. He had to.

Silence settled over them again and John didn't even try to break it, because he knew Randy didn't want to talk and to tell the truth, he also didn't feel like talking now. And so he only began to run his hand up and down Randy's back, calming, soothing and held him. With every passing minute the air around them seemed to become thicker, heavier… more and more choking.

Just as the clock showed 10 a.m. the door opened and he felt Randy flinch slightly, felt the hold of his arm tighten around his waist and in response John pulled him closer. Randy whispered his name as he turned his face against the older man's neck, hiding from what was about to come. Two nurses stepped up to the bed, smiling politely.

"Just one moment," John said quietly.

Bringing his hand up to Randy's face, he whispered: "Ran? Come on, look at me, babe."

He didn't care how this must look like to the two women standing there, watching them lying in bed arm in arm, so close that there was no more room left, or hearing him call Randy babe. And he for sure didn't give a shit if they saw him kiss Randy now.

And Randy came out of his hiding place, looking up to John who leaned in to do it, kiss Randy, pouring all the love he felt for him in that simple kiss. Randy's hand came up, curling around his nape to hold the older man in place because he didn't want go. But he knew he had to and so he didn't give any resistance as John broke the kiss.

"I'm coming with you as far as they let me and I promise I'm gonna be there when you wake up. And then we're gonna start our new life together," John murmured and managed a smile.

Gazing into those beloved baby blues which were sparkling with love and confidence Randy thought once again that as long as John was at his side, there was no reason to be afraid. Somehow John managed to give him this feeling, even now.

God created a masterpiece as he made this man and now this masterpiece belonged to Randy…

Smoothing his good hand over John's cheek to the back of his head to pull him in for another small kiss, he held onto the image of a life together. A happy life, full of trust, joy and love. Only a few hours…

"I can't wait," he whispered against John's lips.

One of the nurses stepped closer, quietly telling them that it was time to go now. Reluctantly John slipped out of the bed and stepped out of the way as the nurses steered the bed out of the room, catching up with them in the corridor, where he took hold of Randy's hand, silently walking alongside the bed. With every meter they made, Randy felt his heart beat a little faster and his hold on John's hand was probably tight enough to be painful, but John didn't even blink. After a few minutes which seemed endless, yet went by all too fast, they reached their destination. As the nurses stopped at a double door, politely stepping back to give them a bit of privacy, John knew that he had to let go now.

Leaning down to Randy he murmured: "It's gonna be alright, okay? I love you."

It was a shaky smile Randy gave him, but it was a real one and the younger man whispered: "And I love you, Johnny."

"I see you when you wake up, Ran," John said hushed and breathed a kiss to Randy's lips, before stepping away from the bed.

Only a moment later Randy was gone and John's eyes stayed fixed on the door they had vanished through. And although there were people passing him, he felt utterly alone. There was a tearing feeling of a loss and the cold and paralyzing combination of panic and fear crawled back out of the shadows, flooding his veins again. Swallowing hard on the bitter taste of those unsettling feelings, he turned away from the door and let his eyes roam the corridor for the waiting area and he slowly walked over as he found it.

Numbness settled over him as he sat down on one of the few chairs in this small room, as he braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, knowing that the upcoming hours would be the longest of his whole life…

x

For the last hour he'd been pacing up and down the small room. Up and down. Up… and down. Every once in a while he walked to the door, taking a look into the corridor but it was always the same picture greeting him. It was the usual business and politely smiling nurses. No doctor on his way to John to tell him everything was alright. Just like right now as he stepped out of the waiting room, looking left and right for _something_. A sign, a nurse waving at him or any-fucking-thing. But… no.

He glanced at his watch. It's been eight hours by now. Eight hour since they had taken Randy away from him. Eight killing hours of waiting and he felt so goddamn helpless.

Groaning he got back in and sat down on a chair, producing his cell from a pocket and flipped it open, looking for a short message from Phil or Sam. He had sent a message to Sam about five hours ago, but there was no reaction. He would have expected some kind of acknowledgment, at least a simple okay, but obviously she was back at being completely uninterested.

And Phil… It had been around 11:45 a.m. when he'd received a message from Phil, asking how he was doing. John hadn't really been surprised that Phil didn't ask about Randy, but somehow Phil's indifference when it came to Randy pissed him off. Sighing John wiped a hand down his face. He knew he was overreacting here… He knew that Phil wasn't the type of guy who feigned interest when there was none. His answer to Phil's message had been that Randy was having his surgery right now and that he was waiting and that it was killing him because he was goddamn scared. And that Randy had told him that he loved him. It had taken a few minutes until there came another message from Phil…

_Congrats, Sunshine. I guess that's it then?_

John's eyes swept over the characters, rereading the message over and over again. A handful of words on a screen shouldn't seem so sad and final. And maybe those words only seemed like that because John felt guilty for giving in to Phil's suggestion although he had been aware that it would be a mistake.

_Yeah. I'm sorry, Phil. Are we still friends?_

His own message. A message without an answer from Phil and John wasn't sure if he should send another message, if he should call him or simply wait. Maybe Phil needed some time. Flipping his cell shut, he tucked it away. He felt guilty and bad about the whole situation with Phil, but right now all he could think of was Randy.

If only someone would come to tell him that Randy was okay…

Leaning forward he braced his elbows on his knees, hung his head and closed his eyes. For the last eight hours his heart had been beating faster than it should and tenseness had settled over him, making him feel dizzy and he knew he should have looked for something to eat and drink, but he didn't dare to leave this damn room. With a little sigh he folded his hands and rested his forehead against them, eyes still closed. Faintly he heard a rattling sound and voices. There was the sound of passing people…

"John?"

Too lost in his state of waiting John didn't react right away and so it took him a couple of seconds to realize that someone had called his name, to recognize the voice. His eyes flew open and his head snapped up.

"Dr. Green," he whispered and got up as the man walked towards him.

Involuntary John began to tremble, his breathing became faster and the dizziness heavier and he was probably even swaying, because a frown appeared on the doctor's face as he reached out to grab John's shoulders.

"You should sit down," Dr. Green said worried and John did as the man told him. The man squatted down in front of him, his hand still holding onto his shoulders in a supporting grip. "Okay, now take a few deep breaths and calm down. Randy is okay and he's already in the recovery room."

The tenseness fell off him, the trembling faded and his heart tripped a few times before it began to slowly calm down, leaving only the dizziness behind. With a shuddering groan John leaned forward and into the supporting hands of the white clad man. Randy was okay… he was okay…

"Thank you, Doc," he mumbled. "Thank you so much…"

For a long moment he kept sitting like this until he felt himself being pushed back gently. He still felt dizzy though…

"You okay?" Dr. Green asked and at a tiny nod from John he continued. "I'll make it short because I guess you want to see him as fast as possible. The tumors have been removed in a complete resection and a rapid diagnostic test hasn't given evidence of malign tissue. That means we have a positive prognosis. The paralysis of the right hand should only be temporary and there also shouldn't be any long-term consequences. I'm positive that you can take him home in about ten days and that we can release him as healed. He will have to undergo control examinations at regular intervals though. Any questions?"

Everything… was okay. _Randy_ was okay. _Everything would be alright…_ In a few moments he would sit beside Randy and the moment he would open his eyes would be the first moment of their life… together. A bright wave of relief and joy rolled through him, washing away the last eight hours and all he wanted was to finally see Randy again.

"No," he breathed happily. "I don't know how to thank you, Doc."

"No need to, John. Now, I guess it's time I take you to the recovery room before Randy wakes up and you're not there. He should be awake in a few minutes."

With that the medic motioned to John to follow him and not even two minutes later John sat in the recovery room beside Randy. He'd felt a painful sting in his chest as he saw the thick bandage around Randy's head. But compared to the way Randy had looked after the accident this bandage and the small sensor on the right index finger were… okay. John had taken hold of his friend's right hand as he sat down, very careful as not to jar the sensor. Randy's breathing was shallow but steady and the heart monitor echoed the younger man's heartbeat in a high-pitched beeping, a reassuring audible proof that he was alive. With a small smile John let his eyes roam Randy's face, noticing that he wasn't as pale as he had been the day before. It was good to see it and it was almost like a good omen.

Gazing around in the room he saw only a few other patients and two busy nurses, so he got up from his chair and sat cautiously on the edge of the bed, his hold on Randy's hand not ceasing a second. Brushing his thumb back and forth on the back of Randy's hand in a tender caress he leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. A second. And a third.

"I promise I'm gonna do everything to make you feel like you're in heaven, Ran. Every single day from now on. You just need to open those beautiful eyes, okay?"

And then he stole a fourth kiss and whispered _I love you_ against Randy's lips, before straightening up again. He kept sitting on the edge of the bed though, despite the unhappy glances from the nurses.

In ten days John would be allowed to take him home. That meant he would make some calls tomorrow to arrange all it needed for their new bedrooms… no, their new bedroom. _One_ room with _one_ large bed. They were now officially an item and he was willed to make it as official as Randy would allow it. And he would call Sam. It would do Randy good to see Alanna.

And he deserved something good after all the shit he had to go through.

Absentmindedly he let the tip of his index finger trace the fine lines on the palm of Randy's hand, while his eyes wandered over his friend's face.

It was a tiny twitch that caught his attention, the fine quivering of Randy's lips and for a brief moment John wasn't sure if he'd only imagined it. But then he heard the beeping of the heart monitor increase a bit, noticed Randy's breathing become stronger. And again the younger man's lips twitched, once, twice and then he saw them part a little… and then he heard his name being mumbled.

"Yeah, I'm here, Randy," John said quietly and a bright smile grew on his face as he gently settled a hand on Randy's cheek. "Open your eyes for me, babe…"

Waiting for Randy to open his eyes, he squeezed his hand a bit and breathed a kiss to his forehead, receiving a faint sigh from him. And then, ever so slowly Randy opened his eyes.

Randy's eyes were dazed, as if the usually clear and sharp grey of his eyes was hidden underneath a veil and that veil seemed to linger there, even as the younger man blinked himself more and more awake, his gaze sweeping aimlessly around. A bad feeling coiled up in John's stomach.

"John?" Randy whispered then, voice low, shaky… scared?

John's smile dimmed as he leaned closer, trying to catch Randy's eyes as he replied as quietly: "I'm here babe. Come on, look at me…"

Randy turned his head in John's direction but… his gaze was still wandering, passing John without noticing him. And the bad feeling in John's stomach grew…

"_Johnny?_"

A mere whisper, heavy with something John had no words for. The grey eyes widened… and Randy's breathing sped up, along with the beeping of the heart monitor. Pulling his right hand out of John's hold he brought his hands up to his eyes, hesitantly, and a shocked and scared expression crossed his face.

"I… I can't… see…" Randy croaked, his breathing becoming even faster and he began to claw at his face. "I can't see… John, I…"

The bad feeling uncoiled, causing a cold shiver to run down John's spine, made his heart drop painfully and after a moment of pure shock he reached out for the emergency button and pushed it, whispering to Randy to calm down. But instead Randy began to hyperventilate, repeating over and over again that he couldn't _see_.

"Come on, babe, you need to calm down!" John urged, taking hold of Randy's wrist to stop the clawing. "Randy, calm down…!"

It happened in a heartbeat… John saw the color drain from Randy's face, watched as his pupils dilated until there was barely grey left… his accelerated breathing stopped abruptly and John watched in numbing horror as Randy's eyes rolled back into his head until there was only white left.

For an agonizing moment the world froze around John as he sat there, petrified with horror and for that moment his heart stopped beating… and in a blink reality was back, crushing, excruciating. A moan escaped Randy's throat, choked, almost wailing as his whole body went rigid, before it began to twitch uncontrolled… the heart monitor echoing a much too fast and frightening unsteady rhythm…

Faintly John felt someone grab him by the shoulders and he was being pushed aside, away from the bed… from Randy's side and Randy's hand slipped from his fingers… A daze descended over him as he stood there, watching as white clad persons surrounded the bed, shouting instructions and there was a nurse coming towards him, telling him to leave the room but he couldn't move, couldn't leave Randy… His thoughts were swirling and blurring into one and fear and panic surged through him, tearing, ripping, chocking… The sounds faded into the background and his vision narrowed on the only part of Randy the ring of nurses and doctors revealed. His right hand… hanging over the edge of the bed, moving slightly as the tattooed arm kept on twitching... A whisper dropped from his lips… _Randy_…

His knees hit the floor hard as his legs gave out under him. Dizziness and nausea flooded him and he began to retch, leaning forward as he tried to support himself on shaky arms. He couldn't _breathe_… There was a buzzing in his ears and a tingling that spread throughout his body and then… everything went black…


End file.
